Back to Basics
by Nico79
Summary: When Grissom decides it's time Catherine and Sara learn to get along, it has far reaching consequences that none of them could have predicted. Femslash, if you don't like that kind of story, please don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Back to Basics**

**by**

**Nico  
**

**Chapter 1**

I'm about to scream loudly, very loudly in fact. So loudly that the entire lab would hear me and a good portion of Vegas too I should think. My night is just going from bad to worse and the simple fact that I haven't committed some small act of violence is indeed a miracle. First on my list would be Catherine Willows, the woman is driving me to distraction, and I've got the distinct urge to tape her mouth shut.

I figure once she got free though, I'd be in even more trouble than I am right now. I'd have a better chance of survival if I painted a target on my ass, and handed a fully automatic weapon to her and told her to fire at will. And she usually does, but thankfully the only kind of bullets I've been dodging so far, are verbal ones.

"Sara?" Catherine leans against her office doorway.

"Yes, Cruella?" I say without a trace of humour.

"Grissom wants to see you in his office. I wonder why," she says sarcastically, looking over the top of her glasses at me.

She's trying to imply something is going on between the two of us, but it doesn't bother me. She should have realised that comments about he and I stopped working a long time ago. I'm almost tempted to laugh about it, but manage to keep a straight face or she'd be onto it like a flash.

"My long awaited transfer to Alaska, maybe? I have a feeling your voice would still carry that far to chew me out," I respond, as I walk past her.

"Don't you get over anything?" she asks the back of my head.

"Usually, and having to work with you, I've gotten good at it. I'm just not in the business of forgiveness," my words appear to shut her up, and I grin with satisfaction as I disappear around the corner.

I'm still pissed at her, and not the kind of annoyance you feel when somebody just gets on your nerves. I'm talking full on, all out, complete and sheer aggravation. She's the only person on the planet who knows exactly how to press my buttons and exactly in which order, to achieve maximum results. After three years of working together, I've learned to cope with it, and most times don't even bother reacting to it. But today she managed to get under my skin spectacularly. I can still remember every word.

"_Questioning my authority again, Sara?" she snaps at me. _

"_Not questioning your authority, but questioning your observational capabilities," I respond angrily. "She's terrified of him Catherine, anybody can see that." _

"_Like all teenagers, she was having a problem with her parents. For whatever reason, she decided to run. She'd been out on her own for three days, and she was probably afraid her parents would be angry that she'd run off like that." _

_I knew she'd say that. "It was more than that. I could see it in her eyes."  
_

"_Jesus, what do you want me to do? Order child protection services to take her away without any proof she's being mistreated by her father? I can't do that, you know I can't." _

"_I wanted you to listen to me for once, instead of dismissing me as per usual. I'm perfectly aware of how you feel about me, but I'm not a fucking child, Catherine. I've worked hard to get where I am and I won't stand for you treating me like a dumb shit who was born in a barn." _

_She turned to me, clearly annoyed. "I have never treated you like a dumb shit and you know it. I know these kinds of cases involving kids bother you, but what I don't know is why. Now that's up to you, because I'm assuming you're never going to reveal why that is, so I'm not going to push for an answer. But I will say this, if you can't switch your personal feelings off from your professional ones, then you shouldn't be doing this job." _

"_And who the hell are you to question my professionalism? Adam Novak ringing any bells, here?" I snap, as she drags me by the arm into her office and slams the door. _

"_Now that's…" her eyes are on fire and the tone of her voice cuts into me._

"_Personal? Hurts doesn't it? If you recall, I asked you several times on that occasion if you were okay and not once did I question your ability to do your job. So don't you ever dare question mine," I reply angrily, because she now has me doubting myself._

"_For your information," she replies with a cold fury. "I checked into their background just to make sure the kid wasn't at risk, because contrary to what you so clearly believe, I'm not dismissing any of your observations as stupid. I took it on board and I did something about it, which I would have told you about if you hadn't gone off the deep end, beforehand._

"_And you expect me to believe that?" I'm somewhat sceptical she was ever going to tell me, reminding me that I always have my suspicions about her motives. _

"_I really couldn't care what you believe but I am not, repeat not, questioning your ability as a CSI. I'm merely questioning your interpretation of the facts since it differed from mine. I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm just saying nothing piqued my suspicions when I checked." _

"_Well that explains everything," my words drip with sarcasm. "If it differs from your interpretation then it must be wrong." _

"_You know what?I tried reasoning with you but you don't want to hear it, so do what ever the hell you want," she dismisses me and sits heavily in her chair. _

"_Just one of these days…" _

"_One of these days what?" she snaps, a look of fatigue passing over her face. _

"_Ah forget it, like I should give a damn," I say curtly, before slamming her office door behind me. _

I'm fully aware I acted out of line. I wasn't exactly being fair but questioning my ability to do my job, wasn't exactly fair either. If she'd told me she'd checked, then maybe we wouldn't have fought about it. Having said that, I really didn't give her a chance to explain before I lost my temper with her, yet again. If I was being fair, I'd say that in some respects, she and I are just as bad as each other. But I'm not feeling very reasonable about things. In fact, I'm of a mind to blame it all completely on her and sulk about it for hours, maybe days, on end. Sulking is childish I know, but it works just great when she gets on my nerves.

"Grissom, you wanted to see me?" I ask as I pop my head through his open doorway.

"Come in and sit down. We're just waiting for Catherine," he doesn't bother to lift his head from his paperwork, as he gestures to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"She didn't tell me that on my way past her office."

"_She_ isn't your goddamn PA," Catherine carps, as she slips into the seat next to me.

"Sarcasm, thy name is Willows," I roll my eyes and fold my arms. "What did you need Grissom? I suddenly can't stand being in this office any longer."

I see her grinding her teeth in my peripheral vision, but unusually for her, she resists answering back. I think I may have pissed her off and if I have, then that's fine by me. I wait for Grissom to stop fannying about with his paperwork, and look at him expectantly when he blinks at us from behind his glasses.

"Having trouble finding your volume switch Gil?" Catherine remarks dryly, when he still doesn't speak.

"We all know you never had trouble finding yours," I carry on bitching, to see if it causes a reaction. It does, and I think may just be beginning to actually enjoy myself.

"You know, one of these days Sidle, I'm gonna wipe that smirk off your face," she raises her eyebrow at me.

"Just try it, you'll get tired of picking yourself up off your ass," I shrug, and watch as her azure blue eyes get darker.

"Oh I'm not talking about anything physical," she husks. "I can make you do exactly what I want, without even touching you."

Okay now I'm a little confused, I think she may just have turned flirty and if that's the case, I need to get the hell out of here.

"Have you two quite finished? Just because there's silence doesn't mean to say you have to fill it with bickering," Grissom says sternly. "I want the two of you to learn to start getting along, and until you do, I'll be pairing you together as often as possible."

We both groan at this.

"How often is often?" Catherine crosses her legs irritably, and begins swinging an elegantly booted foot back and forth in annoyance.

"Each and every case you work," he says with a grim smile, plainly taking satisfaction in what he's doing and I can't really blame him, since I bet they're all sick of us fighting.

"Well if that's all, I'm going to go and sit on a hot rock in hell to get used to the idea of working with Catherine," I stand up and begin to leave the office when he calls me back.

"I'm not done yet, we've got a long way to go," he points to the chair and I reluctantly sit again. "Not only will you work the same cases until further notice, I'm sending you both on a two week course, where you will learn to work together as a team."

"Hell no," Catherine shakes her head. "I'm not going anywhere. I've got Lindsey to think about."

"She's on a school trip, Catherine. She left this morning, you told me so yourself," Grissom says triumphantly.

"Yeah well, that's not the point. Besides, if I was going to go on a course for two weeks with anybody, there's no way I'd pick hellcat Sidle here."

"Hey, what makes you think I'd even agree to it myself?" I turn in my seat and glare at her. "The last thing I want to do is toss around some crappy fake forest, wearing a little orange vest while you fire paint bullets at my ass in the vain fucking hope that it's going to foster trust between the two of us!"

I think I may have gotten a little carried away with my rant because Grissom has gone a little red in the face, and Catherine is struggling not to laugh at me.

"No need to bother, I've got my service weapon right here," Catherine pats the gun currently resting on her hip. "I could quite happily shoot you in the ass, it's not like I've never fantasized about it."

"Yeah well if I'd shot you every time I'd wanted to, right about now you'd be holier than the Vatican," I quip and she bursts out laughing this time.

"Will the pair of you shut up for five minutes? I'm not done yet."

"Ah Jesus, Gil, could you move it along a little here? Lincoln didn't take nearly this long to deliver the Gettysburg Address," Catherine rolls her eyes at him as I snort into my hand.

"Yeah and this is definitely taking four score and seven," I banter back and by this time we're both laughing but Grissom looks a little pissed with us.

"Why is it, the only time the two of you ever seem friendly, is when you're trying to piss me off?" he says puzzled.

"It's a girl thing Grissom. Women will always team up against guys, it's a survival of the fittest kind of thing," she smiles and I momentarily notice how nice her eyes are when they twinkle.

Oh god, I can't believe it. I'm beginning to thaw out towards her. Whose idea was that and why wasn't I consulted? I seriously have no control over my brain, I should be worried.

"Anyway, this training course, I'll be going along with you," he imparts this little piece of information as Catherine and I look at each other sympathetically for once. "It's already booked, we're due to be there on Sunday, and it will give us a day to orient ourselves with the campus, before beginning the course on Monday."

It's 5am Saturday morning now, so it doesn't give us a hell of a lot of time to sort anything out. That's typical of Grissom, I mean I could have plants to water and a cat to find a foster home for until I'm back. Okay I have none of these things but that isn't the point. In reality all I have to do is scrunch my stuff up into a ball before launching it into my suitcase, but he could at least help me pretend I actually had a life he could interrupt.

"Where are we going?" Catherine asks.

"San Francisco," he replies, as I grin enthusiastically.

"Ooooo Frisco, time to partayy," I rub my hands together as Catherine smiles in my direction curiously, as if she never realised I had a fun side.

"We're not there for a two week vacation, Sara," he says disapprovingly. "We'll be flying, so we need to meet up here at 10am on Sunday morning, before we head off to the airport."

But a look passes between Catherine and I. We make a silent pact that if we're going to be stuck there for two weeks, we might as well enjoy our 'off time' when we have chance.

"Speaking of which, seeing as how Gil wants us to forge closer ties," Catherine looks her watch. "I see there's only an hour left of shift. Why don't we knock off early and go grab a beer, chat a while?

I think about it for a moment, probably more like a nanosecond before I nod, and stand up. "First round is on me. Let's get hammered."

"Good idea," she smiles enthusiastically at my suggestion. "Its not like we'll need to worry about a hangover, we'll be off work tonight since Grissom can't expect us to work a full shift and then travel without any sleep."

Ah, the art of blackmail and man, is she good at it. He looks as if he's going to argue, but decides against it. We'll get to go home early and get our night off, Catherine has seen to that.

"Ladies, you know you could at least pretend you recognise my authority here," he smiles slightly, he's probably relieved she and I aren't ripping each others eyes out still.

"We do Gil, that doesn't mean we're taking any notice of it though," Catherine grins at him and pulls me out of the office alongside her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 2**

Daylight filters through my eyelids, and stabs viciously at my retinas, while a team of demolition workers starts up in my head. I quickly close my eyes, and make noises that a coyote would be proud of, as I try to figure out why my lips feel as if they're glued together. I'm also having slight difficulty in moving my legs, and I feel fairly nauseous. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear I had a hangover.

It's at this point I notice I've got something I don't like the feel of pressed against my nose. I take hold of the offending object and realise that I've been sleeping with a loofah stuck up my left nostril. That's just great, now my nose looks and feels like Miss Piggy's. But it gets worse. I'm also wearing a shower cap in a fetching shade of Pepto-Bismol pink. Shit, I do have a hangover. What the hell did I get up to last night?

I risk opening my eyes again and it gives me another clue to my surroundings, as if I hadn't already worked it out. Heaven only knows why, but I appear to have fallen asleep in the bath and what's worse, it isn't even my bath. I don't recognise the bathroom, and due to the fact I'm paralysed by my hangover, I can't sit up to see anything but the ceiling. My mouth feels as dry as the desert, and I can feel my ass gravitating towards the taps of its own accord, in order to get some moisture back into my body. If I was a little less civilised, I'd just turn the damn things on and lay under them with my mouth open.

When I hear a groan from somewhere nearby, I really start to worry.

"Oh, make it stop," the female voice groans again, and I make the heroic effort to sit up but regret it when the room spins.

"I hope you're still breathing. If not, then you're out of luck 'cause I can't remember how to do CPR," I say, as I spot Catherine looking more than a little worse for wear, on the floor.

She cracks an eye open from the bathmat. "What are you doing in the bath? And why are you wearing my shower cap?"

"I can't remember," I reply, blushing as I snatch it off my head. "How did we end up in your bathroom?"

"I don't know, ask me another. I think at some point we were run over by a very large truck, carrying vast quantities of alcohol," she croaks and runs a tongue over her dry lips.

I snort with laughter, and wince when the pain in my head re-asserts itself.

"I need to get out of this bath, before I completely lose the feeling in my legs," I struggle to my knees and wait for her to move, but it becomes apparent she's not going to. "Are you going to let me out, or are you just going to lay there and die?"

"Oh yeah," she groans even louder this time.

I roll my eyes and wish I hadn't as the room spins even faster. Kicking one leg over the side, I fall to the floor with a heavy thud, narrowly missing flattening Catherine in the process. I come to rest alongside her, and we lay there for a while, wondering how much longer either of us is going to live.

"This is all your fault," she moans. "If you hadn't suggested going clubbing, I wouldn't be here."

"Hung-over, or on your bathroom floor?" I ask stupidly.

"Both!" she laughs and then yelps in pain, as cradles her head with her hands.

I close my eyes again when my brain begins to thump against the sides of my skull, like a set of bongos. That's the last time I ever drink anything alcoholic, and certainly the last time I drink with Catherine. The woman has hollow legs, and I can't keep up with her. If she puts the same enthusiasm into _other_ things as she does drinking alcohol then…well it wouldn't bear thinking about. I suppose I'd be twice as tired but at least I'd have a killer smile on my face. Holy hell Sidle, focus on your damaged brain cells and not on your hormones, you're not even sure you like the woman.

"Must have been a good session though, I feel like death warmed up," I stretch my legs, the muscles immediately protesting, and I wonder why it feels as if I've run a marathon.

"If I'm still in possession of my liver, then it was fantastic," she replies, as I feel her move beside me.

"You've done this before," I tease with a grin, wishing that I was able to remember exactly what we had done the previous day.

"Yeah, but you think I'd have learnt by now. Still, at least I recognise the weirdo in my bathroom this time," she snorts with laughter.

"If I could move…" I leave the threat hanging.

"I seem to remember someone declaring themselves a pacifist, yesterday. What was it you said, I'm a lover, not a fighter?" she snickers as she attempts to sit up; leaving me with the panicky feeling I said a whole lot more than should have done.

She uses me as a balancing beam to get to her knees, and then begins crawling away. A thump several moments later, tells me she's just crashed into the bathroom door. It takes all of my self-restraint not to laugh out loud as she turns the air blue, and shuffles away again.

"Where are you going?" I lift my head up and get a view of her hind quarters as she crawls into the bedroom.

"I'm going to bed," she replies, weaving back and forth unsteadily.

I start to crawl after her slowly, so slowly that you'd need a time lapse film to see me moving at all. By the time I reach the bathroom door, she's already on the bed. That's where I'm headed too and I don't care what she thinks about it. There's no way I can drive home like this, I can't even stand.

"Catherine?" I whine up at her from the floor, after my epic journey across her bedroom.

"Yeah?" she shifts and looks over the edge of the bed at me.

"Can I have the other half of the bed, please? I may be about to pass out, and I'd rather do it on a soft surface."

"Fine, but if you tell anybody about this, I'll kill you," she growls and throws an arm over the side of the bed, and helps drag me onto it.

The next couple of minutes are spent with me trying to get purchase on the edge of the bed, and her grabbing the seat of my jeans, catching a handful of my backside in the process I might add, as she's trying to pull me up.

"Jesus, watch what you're doing Edward Scissorhands," I say as her nails dig into me. "You should seriously think about getting those cut, they're a deadly weapon."

"So is my mouth. And unless you wanna try that out instead, I'd watch it," she shoots back.

I can't help shaking with laughter. "I somehow don't think you meant it to sound like that. Besides, it's too early to kiss me; I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."

"Your mind is in the gutter," she digs her nails in even deeper as revenge.

"Would you stop that? It's my ass, not Grissom's bug board," I swat her hand away before she can do any more damage.

"Is it my fault you've got a skinny behind? Next time you want on the bed, haul your own ass on it," she says, exasperated.

"I swear that's gonna bruise, so much for being my friend," I grumble as I clumsily climb over her body, and bury my head into the pillow as if it will save my life.

I can't help feeling momentarily lost, as I smell her scent on the bed linen. It's a unique mix that I'd know absolutely anywhere, and will probably remember for the rest of my life. But I guess snorting her pillow isn't exactly a good idea. She could quite possibly notice this, and I don't fancy having to explain to Grissom that I'm being arrested for sniffing Catherine.

"When the hangover wears off, we'll be cool," she says, and then turns over, facing in my direction as she hugs her own pillow and looks a little green around the gills.

"Hey, wait. Skinny ass?" I complain, as my brow furrows and bottom lip sticks out of its own accord.

"Don't start the verbal gymnastics, Sidle. Not while I'm in this state," she sighs heavily. "Your ass isn't that skinny, it's…"

"It's what?"

"Neatly proportioned," she explains, waving a hand around vaguely in the air. "Satisfied now?"

"Neatly proportioned? That's such a crock! You know you could have stuck to skinny, but neatly proportioned? That sounds even worse," I say sulkily, because I'm never at my best when I feel ill.

"Oh, for crummy sake!" Catherine growls into her pillow. "You've got a nice ass, not too big, not too small. Just the right size, and perfectly rounded the way it should be, okay? And don't go asking if I've been looking at your ass, because then I really will kick your sorry butt out of bed."

She opens one eye and we regard each other silently for a few seconds before grinning at each other, because typically, we're arguing again.

"You couldn't move fast enough in the state you're in," I add cheekily, knowing she hasn't got the energy. "What time is it?"

"I don't know," she buries hear head under the pillow, "don't care either. Shut up, go to sleep, and let me die in peace."

I look at my watch just to see what time it is, before I take her up on her suggestion. "Oh, God."

"What?"

"Oh, God."

"What?!" Catherine's head shoots up as she shouts, and she looks evilly at me as she puts a hand to her forehead.

"Oh God," I seemed to have lost the ability to form a sentence. "If the good Lord…"

"Is mentioned one more time," Catherine cuts me off mid-rant. "Then I swear I'll move you closer to him."

"I can't help it, I'm dying here."

"Well do it quietly, before I change my name to Kevorkian, and decide to give you a little fucking help," she says grumpily.

That caught my funny bone and I burst out laughing, gripping onto my ribs tightly, in seven shades of pain as my body protests at the movement. Then my heart thumps uncomfortably when I remember what time it is again, and why I had begun embarking on another rant so early in the morning.

"Catherine?"

"What now?" she flops over, leans against me, and nudges me with her hand. "Don't you have an off switch, Sara?"

"It's 8am," I try to ignore the fact that she's leaning against me, on her bed no less. Never saw that one happening.

"Yeah, so?"

"8am, Sunday morning."

"It can't be," warm blue eyes narrow, as they meet mine.

"It is, we were out drinking all day and then spent the night in your bathroom. We're supposed to be at the lab in two hours," another round of nausea hits me, when I realise I'll be required to function like a normal human being today, instead of my current zombie status.

"Oh God," she says, sounding like me now, and sits up blearily as she drags me with her. "Grissom is going to kill us both."

"If you'd followed my advice and gone home last night before you ended up dancing on a table to New York New York, and sloshing your beer around, you wouldn't be feeling the effects now."

"Have you forgotten you were dancing along with me?" she smirks accusingly.

I suddenly remember something else too, and now I know why my legs feel as if I climbed Everest before bedtime. "Cath…we dirty danced."

"You're kidding right?!" she squeaks, looking horrified.

Unfortunately I'm not, and it starts dredging up lots of other memories too. Bits and pieces bounce around in my brain like balloons in a gust of wind. If some of my memories are correct, she and I are going to need to sit down and talk. One memory bothers me more than most, and that's the one I want to know about.

"No, I'm not kidding. We did a particularly raunchy version of the Lambada, when you bet me fifty bucks I couldn't dance," I go red, as I remember the fact she paid up.

"I'm never drinking again," She rubs a hand across her face, and shakes her head as if to clear it. "I mean it; it's the last time I go out drinking with you."

"Why?" I say, affronted, even though I promised myself I'd never go out drinking with her again, either. "I don't have a pole stuck up my kiester like you thought I did, and then you refuse to go out with me again, just because your hips decided to assault my leg!"

Actually, it was more than her hips but we're not going there.

She snorts with laughter. "Honey, you're ranting again."

"Yeah, well," I fold my arms and get grouchy, again.

"You didn't like dancing with me, then?" she looks a little uncertain, as if the thought would bother her that I didn't.

"You're a great dancer and I really had fun. I _do_ like having fun you know, there's lot of things you don't know about me."

"I bet there is," she smiles, looking a little more cheerful now. "I've got a feeling I'll find out much more about you, during the next two weeks."

"Providing we make it out of your bedroom alive," I gather my wits together, and try to stand but its proving extraordinarily difficult.

I begin by sliding off the bed, and then stagger around the room in circles as everything spins around me. Just seconds later, I end up collapsing onto the bed again, while Catherine lays there in fits of laughter. I could seriously go right off her again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter 3**

If you ever have a hangover, there are three things you should never do. One, sit out under the hot Vegas sun. Two, wait for Grissom to pack his stuff, whilst you hang around in conditions previously mentioned under category number one. And three, don't under any circumstances, watch Catherine pacing up and down, because she'll have your eyes rolling around like one of the fruit machines down on the strip.

I don't know how she manages it; I know I couldn't be quite so mobile. My stomach is still sloshing around like a washing machine, and if my brain cells don't quit kicking each other some time soon, I might never get back to normal. In fact, I really do suspect that I'm dead, and rigor mortis just hasn't set in yet.

Whereas, Catherine has made a full recovery, which doesn't do very much to endear her to me right now. I don't know what she did, but when I left her house this morning, she looked like a member of the grateful dead, and when I got back she looked like a million dollars.

"What on earth is he doing?" Catherine continues to pace up and down impatiently, in front of my car. "How much stuff does one person need for two weeks?"

"You know, I asked myself that same question when I staggered downstairs with your suitcase this morning," I reply, remembering the fear that my arm was going to fall off under the sheer weight of her luggage.

"I packed sensibly, and what did you do? Brought a tiny bag that looks like it only has enough room for a clean pair of pants, and a toothbrush. Were you planning on getting lucky every night?" she chuckles and then laughs even louder when I send her a grumpy look.

"Some of us didn't take up valuable space with shoes. Take those heels for instance, the black ones with the strappy thingies, where the hell are you going to wear those? They'll look absolutely precious on the assault course, just right for breaking your legs in. I'm sure the doctors at the ER will appreciate your efforts."

"You're too sarcastic for words, Sidle," she points in my direction. "I packed them since I was going to suggest we go out to dinner, but I can't stand you, now."

"I hate you too, Willows," we grin at each other, which definitely makes a change from scowling the way we normally do.

She looks at her watch and clicks her tongue. "What's taking him so long? He said he was going to be ten minutes at the most."

"Probably packing his bug books," I say, as I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, and take a seat on the hood.

The way she's pacing and my reaction to reach for my cigarettes, reminds of me something I had remembered earlier on. The thought makes the pit of my stomach icily cold, even though the sun is shining and the temperature is already up in the nineties. I'm not quite sure how to broach the subject; I don't know if I should ask or leave things be. Having said that; if I leave it alone, it could cause problems later on. And there's already too much to lose, if she and I went back to hating each other.

"I thought you quit?" she asks on her next lap.

"I did, but someone not a million miles away kicked off my habit again, last night. Want one?"

"Will it stop me killing Gil?"

"I should hope so, but if not, I'll testify for you in court," I reply with a laugh and pass the pack to her.

"Why waste our time, if we bury him properly, nobody would ever know," she says with a smile, reaches out for the cigarettes and then lights one. "Thanks."

"I hope he doesn't come out with too much of his shit packed, the suspension in my car will only take so much," and I fervently hope its true, because despite her denial, Catherine packed half her closet.

"Give it a rest, I didn't pack that much," Catherine stops pacing, and shakes her head at me.

"Between your shoes, clothes, and makeup and his National Geographics, we'll be lucky to make it to the airport," I chuckle, enjoying the easy atmosphere between us, feeling sorry that it hasn't always been like this.

That's when I know that I definitely have too much to lose, if I don't bring up the subject. Somewhere along the line, it feels as if we've forged a friendship even though I can't quite place when it happened. I try to piece the bits together, but it's all so jumbled up. I remember things were good to start off with, hostility was at a minimum and then something happened. I'm pretty sure we ended up arguing again, no surprise there I guess. It wasn't pleasant, I know that much even if I can't recall the specifics right now.

I also have a vague recollection of a conversation that I think took place after the argument. I think we both said something that changed things between us, but can't for the life of me remember what. I hope she does, because my memory blanks seriously need filling in.

"Cath?"

"Yeah?"

"We argued yesterday didn't we?"

"Yeah, which is why Grissom is sending us on the trip from hell," she smiles at me and speeds her pacing up.

"No, I don't mean that," I shake my head and follow her with my eyes. "While we were out, one of us said something and we argued. I know it was bad, probably the worst fight we ever had."

"I don't really remember," she takes a drag on her cigarette, and avoids my eyes.

"I know you remember, I can tell by the look on your face. Why were we fighting, and what did we say that hurt each other so much?" my stomach flips uncomfortably as I remember tears on both sides.

I'd never seen her cry before, and I hate that I caused it.

"Can we talk about it later?" she stops pacing and stands in front of me. "It's between us, and I really don't want Gil listening in."

"Sure we can, but whatever it was that happened, we sorted it right?" I ask worriedly.

I don't want to carry on as if we're okay, and then she suddenly whips out her nail file when she's found the right moment to file me to death, in her quest for revenge.

Her smile returns, shining as brightly as the sun above. "Finally, yeah. So you can stop worrying, we're okay."

"I did tell you I was a lover, and not a fighter," I quirk an eyebrow at her, as I laugh.

"Oh yeah, Sara Sidle, licensed to thrill as my personal love muffin," she blows out smoke and almost chokes, as my eyebrows reach my hairline.

"Love muffin? You need to work on your chat up lines," I shift position and cross my legs, desperately scratching around for a change of subject. "If Grissom comes out with more than one bag, we're gonna need the Tahoe."

"Are you back to bitching about that, again?" she must decide she's had enough of pacing, as she leans against my leg, and rests her arm on my thigh. "I did say we could take my car if you were that worried about your suspension."

"There was no room on the backseat for Grissom between Sindy, Bridal Barbie, and Ken the cheating bastard," I say in reply, as Catherine shakes with laughter.

"And Gil's car is a heap of shit," she comments, as we both look across the parking lot to his rust-bucket.

"The last time that car was fashionable, Bo and Luke were being chased around Hazzard County. Freakin' car is older than I am," I say as Catherine bursts out laughing again.

I like this side of her. It's not like I've never seen her laugh before, I'm just never unusually the one to cause it, and I could quite easily get addicted to it. I prefer making her laugh, to making her cry because I'm fairly certain watching the tears fall from her big blue eyes broke my heart. I feel my throat tighten as my heart aches and I know she's noticed something is wrong, but is tactful enough not to bring it up right now.

"Please, don't tell me you were a fan of the Duke boys?" she quirks an eyebrow at me, and I wonder how I should tell her that I wasn't.

"Well, not that I used to watch it often, but no, I wasn't a fan of the boys," I say, after deciding to go for something approaching vague. "Daisy Duke was way cooler."

"Here's Grissom now," she squeezes my leg, and I breathe a sigh of relief that she hadn't called me on my comment.

The man is carrying no less than two suitcases, and I thought Catherine was bad. He's definitely packed half of his bookshelves, unless of course he really is like Catherine, and he's packed his secret collection of heels instead. The thought makes me shudder, as unwanted images of Grissom as a drag queen float through my head. I need to get out more.

We watch as he staggers toward us, and we should probably help him but I don't think either of us wants a hernia. He comes powering past, red faced and sweating, before putting the suitcases down with a sigh of relief. It's then that I notice he's carrying a satchel too, which looks stuffed to capacity.

"Good Lord, Gil. You got half the lab in there or what?" Catherine remarks as she grinds her cigarette out underfoot. "Sara, check to make sure he hasn't packed Greg will ya?"

I choke on my laughter, and he gives us a stern look, which has us both pouting like we're back at school again and being told off by the principal.

"I packed a few necessities, my entomological textbooks, mostly," he says wiping his brow before tossing his bags in the trunk.

"And you're planning to do what with them?" I ask with a raised eyebrow. "Besides getting charged excess baggage."

"Study them," he looks at me like it was a stupid question.

And people think _I'm_ a workaholic.

"You know Grissom, he won't relax," Catherine says as I nod in agreement with her. "He won't take any time off, and he most certainly won't socialise with people. He'll be about as much fun as an attack of the bubonic plague."

"Cheaper for us though, only two drinks per round when we get rolling drunk," I climb into the car as Catherine grabs shotgun, leaving Grissom to climb into the back seat.

"Sara Sidle, do you mean to tell me that you're going to unbend long enough to get drunk with me, again?" Catherine grins wickedly.

"Oh yes, I intend to get so drunk I won't be able to stand up, and neither will you," I return the smile, and pull out of our parking space, heading toward the exit.

The pair of us must be mad, we were half past dead earlier this morning, and we both maintained we were never drinking again, and most certainly not with each other. But here we are planning our next session. Oh well, you know what they say: my liver is evil and must be punished.

"Daisy Duke, huh?" Catherine breaks the silence, as I merge into traffic. "I liked her too; I remember having shorts just like hers."

Oh shit. Not only did she hear me, now she's giving me visuals. This is going to be, one very long trip.

***

An hour later, I'm sitting in the departure lounge of McCarran international and drinking a beer as I watch the city skyline, and various aircraft taking off and landing beyond the window. It's not often I get to go anywhere, and I'm feeling like a big kid at the moment due to excitement at getting out of the lab for a while. I think a lot of my excitement is also due to the fact that Catherine is with me. Now that I've partially gotten over myself, I can admit she's nowhere near as bad as I thought she was. I think I really do like her, and if me comparing her smile to the sun earlier on is anything to go by, my hormones like her too.

I look at my watch and notice I've been sat by myself for the best part of fifteen minutes. Grissom is mincing around the gift shops because typically, he brought the kitchen sink but forgot to bring his sunglasses. Catherine on the other hand, was only supposed to be taking a trip to the bathroom. I know the airport is big, but I didn't realise she'd have to swing by Hawaii just to use the restroom Still, she's left her purse with me, its currently sitting in my lap and I don't know a woman alive who'd go anywhere without it.

I take a sip of my beer, and almost choke on it when I feel it begin to vibrate against my pelvis. Damn, if purses do that, no wonder most women want to carry them. Tough girl status be damned, I want one. And then it suddenly sinks in, when a faint noise emanates from it. It's obviously her cell phone ringing, and I'm undecided on whether to answer it, because it could be important. But I wouldn't want to open her bag either, it's her personal property.

But on the sixth time of hearing the opening riff to Sweet Home Alabama, it's seriously starting to get on my last musical nerve and I fumble with the bag, as I pull the phone out.

"Hello, Catherine Willows' phone, how may I help you?" nice one Sidle, now you sound like _her_ PA.

"Who's this?" A gruff male voice on the other end sounds familiar.

"My name is Sara, I work with Catherine. You must be Eddie, right?"

"Yeah, so where is she?" he asks rudely.

"She's busy at the moment but if you want to call back in about ten minutes," I look around but can't see her, "she should be available."

"I don't have time to go chasin' after her. Just give her a message."

"You sure you don't want to talk to her, yourself?" and I wish he would because the last thing I want, is Catherine going postal on me.

"I'm sure. Tell her when she feels like pretending she gives a shit, to call our daughter and tell her that I'll be looking after her when she comes home from her trip. Kid doesn't need to suffer just 'cause Catherine thinks more of her job than her daughter," he growls and then the phone goes dead.

"Goodbye to you too, asshole," I sigh, and flip the phone shut.

I shove the cell back where I found it and try to close the bag, but it's proving extraordinarily difficult. I went to Harvard, I studied theoretical physics for god sake and I can't manage to close Catherine's purse? I stick my tongue out, and lavish all of my concentration on it, but nope, nothing. I've solved Rubik's Cubes faster.

"I wouldn't bother, there's nothing in there worth blackmailing me for," she says with an amused tone, and plants herself down on the stool next to me.

"Your purse started vibrating," I say, still struggling with the stupid clasp.

"Bet you thought I'd packed a little something extra with batteries, huh?" she giggles and I send her a 'not funny' look.

I'm so busted.

"The phone rang, and I answered because I thought it might be important," I say, still struggling with the purse. "Cath, how do you work this thing?"

She snorts with laughter, and shows me. "See? Doesn't take a genius."

"Here's your drink, smarty pants," I say with a grin, as I pass it over.

"Beer, at this time of the morning?" she asks, shrugs and takes a mouthful anyway.

"It's after 5pm somewhere in the world, and it's helping my hangover, roll with it," I take another drink. "That was Eddie on the phone."

I give her a run down of the conversation and her eyes glint dangerously, but thankfully it isn't directed at me.

"She gets home an entire 24 hours before I do. Nancy is going to pick her up and watch her all day, he's only got her overnight for god sake, and that was by choice," she bites her bottom lip and closes her eyes as she sighs deeply, the way she always does when he upsets her.

"Things still no better between the two of you?" I ask, because if I'm going to be her friend, I want to do it properly.

"You really don't wanna know," she sighs heavily and picks at a loose corner of the label on her bottle.

I think she wants to talk, but because we're sort of only just becoming friends, then she's most likely finding it strange. I don't blame her because I think I'd feel weirdly about it too, it's been surreal between us since we left Grissom's office. Despite our history, I always did hold out a secret hope that we could be friends. That doesn't seem like such a crazy idea now.

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked. Shoot," I nudge her with a smile and figure I should be sensitive to her needs; she hasn't exactly had it easy lately and I know what that feels like.

"Every time I do or say something he's waiting in the wings to prove how much of a bad mother I am. He keeps threatening to file for full custody, and even though he's appeared to clean up his act lately, I don't buy it in the slightest."

"Still no further forward with the divorce?"

"It's not like I haven't tried but this is Eddie we're talking about, the guy's like ether."

"How's Lindsey coping with it all?"

"She's angry with me all the time, and hardly speaks to me. He's got her twisted around his little finger and I'm always the bad one. The more time she spends with him, the more he turns her against me, it never fails."

"It won't be like that forever. She's only eight years old; she's probably confused about the breakup, angry even. It's natural."

"I know it's hard for her, and it breaks my heart that she's hurting so much but she won't let me near her. She lashes out when she gets upset, and I can understand that because she gets that from me. I hope to hell she grows out of it, though," she says with a sigh, and focuses on her drink.

"I doubt it, she takes after her mother, remember?" I joke to try and lighten the heaviness that's settled around us, and I'm glad when she shoots me a grin.

"I'll get you back for that, Sara. Don't say I didn't warn you," she smiles, and slips her tongue inside her beer bottle, before tipping her head back.

That simple move seems to make the room spin slightly.

"You already got me back this morning, when you grabbed a handful of my rear," I motion for the bartender, and order two more beers. "And believe me, I'm suffering."

"Awww I hope your ass isn't too badly bruised," she gives it a quick pat, and then captures her bottom lip in-between her teeth and laughs throatily.

"Not nearly as much as Grissom's will be," I say quietly as a shiver runs down my spine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

As our flight becomes airborne, I feel my stomach begin to protest at the lack of food, re-introduction of beer, and a pilot who thinks he's still sitting at home playing on his Nintendo. I shift again, trying to get comfortable in my seat, my nerves humming like high tension electrical wires. Quite honestly, I'm panicking and feel jumpier than Richard Simmons on an overdose of multi-vitamins. I can barely think straight and I'm not just referring to my sexuality.

I've had entirely too much time to contemplate what happened yesterday, and it's worrying me that I have no idea what was said. I keep trying to remind myself that for all intents and purposes, it seems to have worked out fine. Catherine appears to be cheerful enough, so I guess that's a good sign. I feel ever more hopeful when her hand slips into mine, and she laces our fingers together, her thumb playing gently across the skin.

I turn to look at her, and find her grinning at me like one of the Osmond's. "You okay? You've gone a little pale."

"I'm fine. I just wish Captain Kangaroo would pick an altitude, and stick to it."

"Relax, we're okay," she says with a smile, not really buying my explanation. "You've got nothing to worry about."

Oh but I have, Willows. Your beautiful blue eyes are threatening to wreak serious havoc on various bits of my anatomy. The minute you're in front of me, my eyes gravitate toward your ass. And the top it all off, since I'm taller than you, I can see right down your shirt and it's threatening to drive me absolutely loopy. In less than a week, I've gone from thinking you're my mortal enemy, to tripping over my tongue every time I see you. Someone, somewhere, is seriously taking the piss.

It could be a whole lot worse though; I could be sitting next to Grissom instead. The minute we settled into our seats, he dragged one of his textbooks out, which unfortunately happened to be the one with the huge index of gory photographs depicting entomological studies on decomposing corpses. I pity the poor soul sitting next to him, when their drink and munchies are served.

At least he's preoccupied anyway, and won't be leaning over us, crunching his peanuts at us like we're the in-flight entertainment as we're trying to talk. Having said that, we could plant a nuclear device in his shorts, while he's reading one of his books, and he'd probably never notice.

"Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?" I ask, wanting to get it over with while we have the chance.

"Mmm let me see," she appears to think about it, and then smiles naughtily. "No."

"In that case, I'm going to swap seats with Grissom so you can see his photos," I lose any hope I had of that threat working, when she grins wickedly at me.

"I had just decided to fill you in on yesterday, but I don't think I'll bother now," she teases, as she turns toward me in her seat and crosses her legs.

"You can't do that, that's too evil even for you," I narrow my eyes at her, I figure joking around is making things easier on both of us.

"Evil, is when your friend scares you shitless with urban legends about the Luxor, when you're still actually in it! So don't talk to me about evil," she raises an eyebrow at me.

Oh now that I do remember, and boy, was it a classic. I remembered a tale I'd heard from Nick when I first arrived in Vegas, about three construction workers who were killed during the time of the Luxor's construction. As rumour would have it, their ghosts were supposed to appear to visitors in the dark tunnels of the Nile Riverboat ride; which we just happened to be on at the time, because we were heading for the LAX nightclub. I proceeded to tell her all about it, and as soon as we sailed into the first dark tunnel, she ended up sitting on my lap and holding onto me so tightly that I'm sure she left permanent handprints on my ribs.

"It was pretty entertaining for me though, I can tell you that," I laugh cheekily in response.

Her eyes cloud over a little and her smile disappears. "It was fun, until we ended up fighting in the parking lot."

"How typical," I sigh dramatically, playing for, and getting a laugh from her. "You couldn't pick a fight somewhere a little bit more exotic? You lose points in originality for that one, sweetheart."

She begins smiling again, amused at the blush on my face from my verbal slip. "Some of my best moments have been in parking lots."

"Pity I didn't have my car with me," I wiggle my eyebrows at her, as I flirt outrageously. "Then we may have created a few more."

She nudges me with a mock look of horror. "I was in fact referring to our subsequent conversation, when we agreed to be friends. But if you're going to act like a total pervert, I'm not going to bother."

"If you're going to act like a total prude, I'm just going to keep on flirting," I counter with a grin, as a flight attendant flounces past with her drinks trolley.

"Hey, after dancing me with me, you should know I'm anything but a total prude."

"True, I've still got the bite marks," I giggle as nudges me.

"If I'd bitten you, Sidle, you'd know about it," she winks, and it sets my heart racing. "Do you want to know what actually happened in that parking lot, or is your mind still elsewhere?"

"Carry on, I want to know what happened in the parking lot," Grissom leans over our seats, and smiles brazenly at us.

"Jesus Gil, you're turning into Hodges!" Catherine exclaims, blushing several different shades of red.

"I'm teasing, I didn't hear anything but your last comment," he says as he climbs over his seat-mate and stands next to me in the aisle. "You know your trouble Catherine?"

She's about to answer, when I hold my hands up to stop them, because I can't take many more interruptions. "Don't even get started on it, you can go the full twelve rounds later on. Grissom, make yourself scarce for twenty minutes. Catherine, start filling me in on yesterday."

"Where am I supposed to go for twenty minutes?" he moans. "It's not like I can wander around is it? We're cruising at thirty thousand feet."

"Go get some fresh air," I say grouchily. "There's plenty of room on the wing."

Catherine steps in, just as he's about to complain again. "Take a trip to the bathroom, or chat to the blonde hussy who was just shaking her booty at you."

"You mean the flight attendant?" he frowns. "You know, hussy is a terrible…"

"I said hussy, and I meant hussy," Catherine raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

"Excuse me," I eye them both, as my teeth begin to itch. "I am desperately trying to pry some information out of…"

"What makes you think she's a hussy?" Grissom doesn't seem to pay me any mind, and carries on chatting.

"You can tell by the way she was fluttering her eyelashes at you, and waving her boobs around in your drink. I'm surprised the guy sat next to you didn't end up with a couple of black eyes," Catherine explains. "If you were a normal man, no disrespect Gil, she'd have had you in the mile high club before we even reached cruising altitude."

Oh my god, these two are driving me absolutely insane.

"Grissom, go join the mile high club and Catherine, you better start telling me what happened because if you don't, you're both going to wonder when yours truly will creep into your rooms at night and do untold, unspeakable fucking things to you in your sleep!"

"She's getting verbal again," Grissom chuckles, as he points in my direction.

Catherine nods, desperately trying to hold a laugh in. "It looks that way, guess we better give her what she wants, huh? Could you give us twenty minutes please, Gil?"

"Sure I can, I'll go get a drink," he smiles amiably at her, before wandering off.

"And he couldn't have done that before? I swear you two are going to…"

"Sidle, zip it for five minutes would ya? You wanted to know what happened yesterday, so I'm going to tell you," Catherine takes a deep breath and begins revealing all, just before my memory comes rushing back at me in great chunks.

***

"_What's the matter?" I ask, holding the door open for her, and feeling the heat hit me like a wall. "You were okay earlier on, and you've just suddenly gone quiet."_

"_Why should anything be the matter?" she snaps. _

"_If this is because of that stupid ghost story…" _

"_It's not." _

"_Then what is it?" _

"_My problem is you, and it's always been you!" she suddenly explodes. "From the minute you walked in the door, you've been doing the same thing you always do." _

"_And that would be?" I cross my arms, and angrily slide my sunglasses onto the top of my head. _

"_Back there, you paid for the drinks. It should have been my turn," she fumes, and slips her sunglass on before, before snatching them off again. _

"_You're upset with me, because I paid for the drinks?" I ask incredulously. "Every time I try to be nice to you, we end up like this!" _

"_Maybe you should quit trying to be nice, then," she glares at me. _

"_What's this really about?" _

_Catherine shakes her head and walks away, before immediately coming back. "It's the principle of the thing."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?" I wish she'd quit speaking in riddles, she confuses me at the best of times. _

"_Do I actually look like I need rescuing? You've been doing it the entire time I've known you. You waltzed into the lab like Super Sidle, and proceeded to take over Holly Gribbs' case, because you thought I was incapable." _

"_No," I shake my head vehemently. "I did nothing of the sort, and that's not fair. I stood back and let you do your thing, and you solved the case. All I did was offer my support to you because strangely enough, I thought it might help." _

"_Yeah well it didn't, you made it worse and you're still doing it! I don't want or need your help. Period!" _

"_Oh I see the error of my ways now. I'm such a bitch," I say sarcastically, because I still don't get what I'm supposed to have done. _

"_You don't understand how inadequate you make me feel. Every single case we work, its there, hanging over me. You walked in radiating perfection, and I'd just fucked up in the worst way imaginable because Holly was dead. Every time I look at you, I'm reminded of it."_

"_You didn't do anything wrong, but if you feel so badly about it, then it's about time you resolved it instead of blaming it on me. Jesus, you talk about me making people feel inadequate. Do you have any idea how useless the rest of us feel around you?" _

"_What?" she forgets to be angry for a moment, and looks puzzled. _

"_You know what I'm talking about, you get the job done and nine times out of ten you don't care how you do it. You talk the talk, and people fall at your feet, because they're so damn eager to please you. It must be wonderful to be able to click your fingers and have the entire room fall in love with you. Well you know what Cath, the rest of us are human and have to work at these things." _

"_Don't you talk to me about being human," she retaliates, her eyes burning into me. "That's one of the things that really pisses me off about you; you see everything as being black and white. There is no grey area as far as you're concerned. I'm sorry we're not all as perfect as you Sara, but some of us function in the real world where we have things like feelings, and problems that you can't find the answer to in a textbook." _

"_Don't you ever dare assume I'm not living in the real world, you know nothing about me or my life, because you've never bothered to ask. Your hugs, your little pep talks, and your mothering skills are solely for the boys. What happens when it's me? Oh Sara has a problem, fuck her, she'll manage." _

"_Hey that's not fair!" she starts up again. "If you co…"_

"_Whatever," I wave my hands in the air and light a cigarette before passing it to her. "Here, you want this or am I going to get another goddamn speech about my misplaced chivalry?" _

"_God, I hate you sometimes," she takes the cigarette from me. "Thank you." _

"_You're welcome." I light my own cigarette and inhale deeply. "I knew you hated me the minute I walked in the door. If it's any consolation, the feeling is more than mutual." _

_Her eyes glint dangerously at me and that's when things really begin to get heated. Every time we've pissed each other off, every comment, every wrong look, every case we've ever worked, gets added to the mixture. We've been getting some funny looks from passersby, some sympathetic ones too, and it actually crossed my mind that they could very well think we're a couple. I don't blame them, we're arguing like we've been married for twenty years. _

_As much as it might sound damaging, I think its having the opposite effect. The tension has simmered between us for the last three years, and it was fast approaching the point where the argument we're having now, would have been nothing more than an inevitability and by then, it may have been too late to salvage anything. _

_While Catherine draws breath in readiness to vent her spleen, the thought crosses my mind that Grissom knew this was going to happen. He might not be on the ball about everything but he's an astute observer of human behaviour. I suspect he purposely became the catalyst, that was going to blow everything sky high._

"_The minute I walk into a room, you either hunker down or walk out of it. I can't talk to you, because you won't let me anywhere near you, unless it's to do with work. You're distant, you're moody, you can be downright anti-social and you wonder why I keep away from you?" Catherine says, as I focus on her again. "You treat me like I've got some sort of disease; do you have any idea how much that hurts?" _

"_I've tried to talk to you, on more than one occasion but you're not exactly receptive. I constantly hit a brick wall in trying to be a friend to you, so I shut myself off because I got sick of being rejected all the time. I really don't understand you, you bitch at me constantly because I'm in the way, and yet you moan when I keep away from you. Your problem is you can't tell the difference between wanting to help, and wanting to be in control." _

"_I don't think so," she replies, quick to refute it. "Don't go making one of your snap judgments about me. You don't know what the hell you're talking about."_

"_Actually I do, making snap judgments is something we have in common. But I guess you already knew that, because you've got a list of my faults written down somewhere, don't you?" _

"_Screw you," she replies with force, and turns away from me. _

"_What is it you have against me? What have I ever done to you that's so bad, that you leave me feeling as if you're sorry I'm still breathing?" I promised myself I wouldn't cry but my eyes have other ideas. _

"_You really think I hate you, don't you?" she looks genuinely horrified, as if she'd never considered she came across that way. _

"_I've been on the receiving end of your bitchy comments more times than I care to remember, so yeah, I really do think you hate me. And you know what? I can't do this any more. I'm done putting myself out there only to have you kick me in the teeth. I give up, I really don't care anymore Catherine, you're on your own." _

_I watch as her eyes drop to the floor and tears brim, collecting in huge droplets before sliding down her face, in searing hot tracks. For a moment I'm convinced she's going to tell me that she couldn't give a damn, but then she looks up at me in such a way that makes my heart break. And seconds later, before I have a chance to reach out to her, she walks away from me. _

"_Catherine, where are you going?" I hurry after her; I can't let her wander off now, not when things are like this. _

"_Leave me alone," she orders, but there's no real force behind it. _

"_Catherine, stop," I take hold of her arm. "We're not going to solve anything by running away. Talk to me for god sake, the fact we've put up with each other this long must mean something." _

_I knew in the instant that I let everything out; that it's not how I really feel. She's hurt me and I hurt her, tit for tat, retaliation in its oldest form. _

"_What's the point? There's nothing to talk about, I lost my chance to make things right between us after we first met, and now it's too late," she replies before walking away again. _

"_It's never too late if you care about somebody Catherine, and I do." _

_She stops in her tracks, and it takes her several moments to turn around. She takes a few steps toward me, her face much softer than before. _

"_You know why I keep you at arms length?" she bites her lip, as tears fall faster. "You're the only one that really understood me when I felt like I was responsible for Holly's death. I couldn't handle that, I felt so weak. I've spent my entire life feeling weak, and that's not how I want you to see me. I wanted you to like me for who I am, and I can't really expect you to do that, when some days I don't even like myself. I have no right wanting you to care about me, when I've treated you as badly as I have." _

"_Look at me," I say gently and she does, as I take a few steps nearer to her. "I do like you for who you are, you should never want to change for anybody, least of all me. It hasn't all been down to you, I'm just as guilty."_

"_I'm tired of getting hurt, Sara. And I hate that I'm hurting you so much," she sobs. "I don't want to hurt you, not now, not ever." _

"_I don't want to hurt you either," and it's true, I was so wrapped up in the fact she was hurting me, that I didn't stop to think about the way I was hurting her. Neither of us did. "I just…I see you looking so lonely sometimes, even behind your smile and I know how that feels. I just want to be there for you, because I know what it feels like to be alone."_

"_That's why I find it so hard, you see more of me than I wanted you to and I have no control over it," she explains, and I know how hard it is for her not to be in control, how hard it must have been to even admit it. _

"_I can't help that, it's just how things are, but maybe it's not such a bad thing," I reply tearfully. _

"_How can it be good?" she asks quietly. "Knowledge is power, and people use it against you." _

"_I'm not that kind of person, you know I'm not." _

"_I know," she nods. _

"_You wanna go get a coffee or something? We've had too much to drink." _

"_Booze goes in, truth comes out," she replies cynically. _

"_They're only half truths. You know something? Irregardless of everything that's happened between us, I still can't help caring about you. You might not know it, but you crept into my heart a long time ago Cath, and although you've bruised it god knows how many times since, I wouldn't change it for the world." _

_I hold out my hand to her, and she hesitantly takes it, but keeps her distance. I see her mind ticking over, she wants to say something, but probably doesn't know how to say it. I see her taking a deep breath, before her eyes meet mine again. _

"_I see everything, Sara. I see the look behind your eyes, and the way you watch me when you notice there's something wrong, but I never know what to do about it. I'm afraid to get too close in case we break each other; it's easier to push you away," She wipes a tear from her eye, still annoyed with the fact she's lost control in front of me._

"_You can't break something that's already broken, but you can fix it," I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, I feel as if a weight has been lifted. "We can put everything together again, isn't that what friends do?" _

_Before I know what's happening, the gap between us has closed and we're holding onto each other, in a tangle of arms. I can't even begin to process what just happened but I know something did, and a feeling tells me that things have just changed between us permanently. _

"_Shhh sweetie, it's okay," I rub her back and whisper into her hair, as I try and fail, to stop crying. _

_She hiccups through her tears. "I'm sorry, Sara. I'm so sorry." _

"_I'm sorry too, I never meant to hurt you," I rock her back and forth in my arms, and I know that things will be okay after all. We don't hate each other, we never did. _

"_I've never been all that great at voicing my feelings; I find it hard to open up. But I do care about you, more than you know, and I think I always have. Please, will you give me the chance to make it up to you?" _

"_There's no need," I lean back slightly, and she wipes the tears from my face, as she looks at me tenderly in a way she never has before. "Clean slate. No more fights, no more accusations. If you've got a problem then talk to me, that's what friends do." _

"_Are you sure this is what you want?" she asks uncertainly, as I use the sleeve of my shirt to dry her eyes. _

"_I'm absolutely sure; I wouldn't have said if it wasn't. What about you, what do you want?" _

"_I'll take anything you want to give, but please don't tell me I'm on my own again. I couldn't handle it if you walked away from me," she looks at me with red-rimmed eyes, and I feel my heart break all over again. _

"_I'm not going to, I promise. Nobody needs to be on their own, not when we have each other. I'll always be here for you," I say, as I try to get to grips with everything that's happened. _

_Our eyes meet, and only for the fact I've sobered up quite a bit, I might not have registered what appeared to be going to happen. Thankfully, just as we are about to lean in closer to each other, a loud noise startles us both and breaks the spell. I breathe a sigh of relief, at least now I'll get to keep my kneecaps intact. On the downside, I just missed out on my one chance to kiss her. But nobody ever said life was perfect. _

***

I try hard not to give away the fact I remember we very nearly ended up kissing. I remembered that little gem all on my very own and now I wish I hadn't because it's not helping the evil hormone bunnies invading my body. She doesn't give any indication she remembers, although I know she will, but I think that's a conversation we should save for when hell freezes over.

I'm glad Grissom disappeared, since we're both sitting here, faces all blotchy from crying, looking like a couple of guests on the Dr. Phil show. Still, it could have been worse, we could have fought all over again, and then it would have been more like the Jerry Springer show. But now things appear to be sorted for once, and I know we're both much happier than we were before.

"That was some fight," I say, feeling emotionally and physically drained, and it's still only early in the day.

"I did warn you," a tear trickles down her face, and I wipe it away with my shirt sleeve again.

"Sorry, I know it's not nice but I don't have any tissues."

"I think it's sweet, thank you," she kisses me gently on the cheek. "Do you hate me now you know everything?"

"No," I reply honestly. "How could I after you poured your heart out like that? Might come as a bit of a shock to you, but I understand completely. Do you hate me?"

"God no, if only you knew how much I really do care," her words come tumbling out, and I kiss her on the forehead as she pulls me into hug

This is Grissom's fault, and I don't know whether to thank him, or kick him in the nads. Just at the moment, I think I'd choose the route of thanking him, but that could soon easily change, as he picks this exact moment to show up again.

"Is this one of those female bonding sessions?" Grissom breaks into the moment, as we both turn to face him.

"Why, are you interested in getting in touch with your feminine side, you big tart?" Catherine laughs, as I take hold of her hand and he flashes us another smile.

"Why are you grinning?" I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "You're way too cheerful, and you're making us both out to be liars, by being perfectly sociable. What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything," he says innocently and hands a drink to us both. "Here; I had a feeling you might need these, since women always seem to end up in tears after a discussion."

My god, he's actually done something for once that proves he's been taking notice. Something isn't right; he was or possibly still is, up to something. I can feel it in my bones and, evidently Catherine does too.

"Why don't we believe you?" Catherine gives him her 'I know you're lying' look.

He shrugs his shoulders as we both take a sip of our drink. "You're both just annoyed because I'm a member of the mile high club, now."

Catherine and I immediately choke on our drinks, and struggle for breath as he stands there, looking very pleased with himself indeed.

"Gotcha," he grins wickedly at us, and then wanders off back to his seat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Since I know Frisco well, I became the designated driver as we picked up our hire car at the airport. I'm quite happy with that, since Grissom is often guilty of driving like a nun. And Catherine is often guilty of driving like she stole it. She's a perfectly good driver, but she has this wild streak in her, that sometimes interferes with my chances of growing old. I wonder if she has that wild streak running through all aspects of her personality? Oh god, evil hormone bunnies are awake now, I should have kept my mouth shut.

I go back to thinking about safer subjects. The facility we're headed for is on the outskirts of the city and I've never been there before. It was built after I'd left and I'd never had any reason to visit till now. The National Law Enforcement Academy was apparently a place of learning. I wasn't sure what to think, but after surveying the outskirts of campus on the road in, even I have to admit it looks perfectly pleasant. I think Grissom has taken a shine to it already, he's in the back, showing off more teeth than a racehorse as he grins enthusiastically.

As soon as we pull up at the guard booth, the guard hands out our ID passes, and welcome packs containing all the information we'll need, as he gives us directions to our accommodation block. Once we're signed in, we drive slowly up the long road, past brick buildings that have been designed to look like a modern university campus.

"Oh they're not serious," Catherine exclaims as she shuffles through her info pack. "It says here that once we've found our designated parking place, we're to report to the main office where we'll be issued with a uniform and a personal firearm. We're to wear them at all times when we're on campus, which along with our ID, will help others recognise which law enforcement agency we're part of. Failure to do so will result in a warning. Three warnings will result in you getting kicked off of the course."

"Uniforms?" I query, but I'm not exactly sure I want to know, since it sounds to me as if we're only one step away from having our heads shaved, and being taught how to drive tanks.

"Uniforms," she nods.

A gaggle of cops wearing red shirts and tan coloured fatigues run past chanting something or other, and I suddenly feel as if I'm in hell. Grissom hasn't brought us along for a training course, he's planning to kill us with exercise and militaristic fashion statements. Catherine looks similarly horrified when we climb out of the car, and take in our surroundings in the early afternoon sun. Oh good god, we've been sentenced to two weeks in mini-Quantico.

"Is it just me, or does everyone around here look about twelve?" she looks suddenly uncomfortable at the prospect that we appear to be the oldest people in attendance.

"I knew this was gonna happen one day," I fall into step beside her as Grissom wanders off in front of us, looking as happy as a sandboy. "I knew I was gonna get so old that I'd feel self conscious about it."

"You're not alone, I'm even older than you are."

"There's a silver lining, though. Grissom is older than us both," I smile when her face breaks out into a grin.

"Now that makes me feel better."

***

I look askance at the guy who hands my uniform over to me. A black t-shirt with a little academy emblem on the front and huge yellow letters on the back proclaiming we're CSI's. Next is a pair of black fatigues, and rounding the whole ensemble off, is the biggest pair of combat boots that I've ever seen in my entire life, again in black. Our personal firearm turns out to be a Sig Sauer P220 .45 caliber, which is some serious firepower. Quite honestly, I'm horrified.

It may have appealed to my tougher side at one point, but right now I'm in the process of finding the lighter, more sensitive side of myself. The last thing I need, is to go mincing around campus, looking like a girly version of Rambo. Come to think of it, Rambo may just have had longer hair.

"Oh look at these uniforms, aren't they precious?" Catherine chirps when she surveys her own. "They could easily identify us from space, judging by the size of these letters."

"Don't tell me you've got a thing for uniforms?" I ask casually, sort of hoping that she does but not being able to work out whether she's being sarcastic or not. Knowing Catherine, it's probably a bit of both.

"I do indeed, I just about keeled over when they issued our black CSI duty vests."

Looking like Rambo might not be such a bad thing after all.

"I thought the hot flush you had, was some sort of crisis over it not matching the rest of your wardrobe," I quip, causing Catherine to laugh huskily.

"Black goes with anything, honey. Specifically what the vest went with, caused the hot flush," she smiles naughtily.

I resist the urge to stick my fingers down my throat when I realise she's probably having another fantasy moment about Warrick, specifically in his duty vest. I'm not blind, I know he's a good looking guy, but he does nothing for me. None of the guys do. If they did, I'd be the least successful lesbian on the planet. But she doesn't know that of course, none of them do, not even Grissom. I suppose now I'm back in San Francisco, there's a huge possibility the subject will come up, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

"And you think that shade of lipstick, is gonna go with these…frankly huge boots?" I hold them up for Catherine to see, and a look of horror passes her face.

She places her hands on her hips and tilts her head to one side as she swears softly. "Ah shit."

"Come on Ladies," Grissom pipes up. "We need to see our accommodation; we don't have time to stand around."

"Oh he's still breathing then," Catherine says sarcastically, as I tag along beside her. "Although, I'm sorely tempted to rectify that."

"You and me, both. You still think he's playing at something?"

"Definitely, he's got that toady little look on his face," Catherine eyes him suspiciously. "Wanna have a little fun? Torment him a bit?"

"Catherine, I thought you'd never ask," I reply with an evil grin as we hurry to catch him up.

We split up with Grissom when he wanders off to find his room, promising to meet up again for a late lunch when we've unpacked. We head off in search of the female only accommodation block and after a five minute walk, we've come to a leafy lined pathway leading up to a pleasant looking building. The pleasant views stop at the door. As soon as we get inside, it looks as if we've stepped into a correctional facility. A dour faced woman sits at reception, and flips aimlessly through a magazine that looks as if she'd been reading it since Eisenhower was president.

"Afternoon, I'm Lou-Ann," she says in a thick southern accent. "Can I help y'all?"

She speaks without a trace of a smile, and I'd bet my next paycheck that she hasn't cracked a smile since the Seventies.

"Catherine Willows and Sara Sidle, we're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We're here to check out our room," Catherine says, confidently.

We're not required to sign anything or even show our identification. Catherine could have introduced us as Laverne and Shirley, and our new pal Lou-Ann wouldn't have been any the wiser. I get the feeling she wouldn't have cared either, a testament to how happy she looks in her chosen vocation.

"This way," she stands up unenthusiastically, and leads us through a corridor and towards a staircase.

I'm beginning to start feeling the effects of my recent partying, when we start climbing stairs, headed toward somewhere at the back of the building. It looks even less presentable than the rest of it had, the colour scheme even more depressing than it was down in reception. My legs begin to ache as we climb the third flight of stairs, and I'm not the only one out of breath, Catherine is wheezing along beside me. We really should quit smoking again. Without even asking, I relieve her of her heavy suitcase and if she doesn't like it, then stiff biccies.

"Thanks," she says smiling brightly.

"You're very welcome. Hey, I wonder what she does for fun at the weekends?" I idly wonder, as Lou-Ann continues climbing stairs with all the finesse of a Russian weightlifter.

Catherine appears to think about it. "Bare knuckle fighting. Unless she really wants to chill out, and then she might just shoot things from the back of her pick-up."

I snort with laughter and then nudge Catherine, as we turn the corner and go up the last flight of stairs. "Welcome to the San Francisco Hilton. Jacuzzi's are an optional extra but every room is fully kitted out with its own stained mattress, a half eaten sandwich behind every radiator and at least once cockroach in each bathroom. Don't hesitate to enjoy your stay."

She shakes with laughter, until she realises I could very well be right. "Oh, God."

Considering this place is supposed to be a fairly new facility, it doesn't look it. It looks like somebody had a frat party complete with tanks, explosives and air to surface missiles.

"I think we just walked into a backdrop for Prison Break," she says as Lou-Ann points out our room.

"In here y'all," she stops, and motions for us to enter in front of her.

The room had definitely seen better days. Cinder block was covered in dirty paint and the floor must have originally been close to the same colour at one point, but it certainly wasn't now. In opposing corners, old metal framed beds appeared to have been made up with fresh linen and turned down slightly for us at the corners. The room had been cleaned and aired out, no doubt about that but it still looked like something out of the state penitentiary to me. At least we had our own en-suite bathroom, but that was putting it nicely.

"It's colder than a Polar Bear's nuts, in here. You wouldn't think it was seventy degrees outside," I say blowing on my hands, as Catherine laughs into my shoulder quietly, from where she's standing behind me.

I like the way she keeps touching me. Catherine's always been very tactile with people, just never with me. I take this as a sign that she's determined for us to be friends, and I won't mind one little bit how many times she wants to touch me. I hope that's not a sign of me caving into the naughty scenarios in my head. I've already had a few on the plane, and I don't know where the hell they came from, but they're in there and I can't get rid of them. Having said that, if you got the visuals I was getting, you wouldn't want to get rid of them either.

"This is the bathroom and in here, you've got your shower, your tub and toilet obviously. Got clean towels on the shelf here…" Lou-Ann rambles on as if she's doing a voice-over for a Discovery Channel documentary.

"What's with the tour? It's a bathroom," Catherine whispers in my ear. "She's coming on like the Mayor's wife!"

I can't help it, I start shaking with laughter and cover my face with my hands. Catherine immediately places her hands on my shoulders, and pats them as if I were upset.

"Don't mind her, she's feeling fragile, and finds the décor lovely. What is that enchanting colour? Institutional green?" Catherine says, and this makes me laugh even harder.

I bet Lou-Ann is seriously starting to wonder whether she's safe. Maybe she thinks we'd be perfect candidates for the nearest mental health facility.

"Can I do anything for y'all before I go?" she asks, with an approximation of a smile that looks more like appendicitis.

She would pick now to smile. Good job I didn't bet my next paycheck.

"You certainly can, Lou-Ann," Catherine nods, "because as lovely as this place is, I'm gonna need directions to the nearest hotel."

Lou-Ann nods, and evidently seems glad of the fact.

***

I'm pleased to see daylight again the minute we leave the accommodation block. I started to get the irrational feeling that we'd never find the doorway again, and Lou-Ann's new found habit of smiling didn't help matters. If she'd whipped her Banjo out, you wouldn't have seen my ass for dust.

I hold the door open for Catherine and we step out onto the sidewalk, immediately seeing Grissom smiling, and waving at us like a girl guide from a bench several hundred yards away. He evidently seems pleased with his room. I figure I'll let Catherine tell him we're moving off campus, she's got seniority after all. I'm not a coward, I'd just like to see her get a little hot under the collar again if he complains. I want to see if one of my little moments on the plane, depicted her in a less than happy mood accurately. God I need help.

Catherine casually reaches into my pocket and retrieves my cigarettes as I try not to drool all over her. I'm suddenly glad I decided to wear a pair of nice, tight jeans. I'm pretty sure I catch a grin on her face, and then before I can resume enjoying her wandering fingertips, she's pulled the pack out and has lit one before handing it back to me.

"Am I glad we're out of there," she says, with her hands on her hips and the cigarette clamped between her lips as she talks. "My priorities have changed. I need food, beer, and to get laid. Not necessarily in that order."

I couldn't help howling with laughter. If she had been wearing her fatigues and a ton of camouflage cream, then her statement wouldn't have seemed out of place.

"We've only been in there ten minutes, and you're acting like you just got done with a tour of duty in 'Nam," I giggle, as the picture forms in my mind.

"It was ten minutes too long. Come on, when we've broken the news to Grissom and checked into our hotel, I'll buy you a beer," she picks up her case, and takes another drag of her cigarette as we stride toward him.

"Beer comes before getting laid then?" I joke, and take her case from her again, knowing I'm walking a fine line in flirting with her the way I am.

"It usually does honey, at least in my experience," she drawls, with a smile in her voice.

"You've been getting laid in all the wrong places then," I say with a grin.

"Certainly seems that way," she winks at me, and then I get lost watching the way her hips sway as she walks.

Man, I really do need help.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

I attempt to sit up and greet the day, but only get so far before collapsing back onto the bed, and burrowing under the duvet again. I'm still tired; I didn't sleep well last night, due to thoughts of Catherine running through my head at breakneck speed. At first I was confused, and now I'm not, or at least not quite as confused as I was. And I don't know which is worse: the confusion, or the confusion over the recognition that the confusion eventually brings on.

Did that make sense? Probably not, and having to share a bed with the object of my affections hasn't exactly helped my state of mind. It also didn't help that she bounced around the bed in her sleep like a nymphomaniac at a Barry Manilow concert.

As I hear the shower start up, I stray towards her side of the bed and lay my head on her pillow, as I think about the numerous things that went through my mind last night. I knew I liked her, I just didn't realise how much until she lay next to me, breathing the soft even breaths of sleep and looking more beautiful, and relaxed than I'd ever seen her. All I wanted to do was hold her, to feel her warmth, and her heartbeat against me. I'm aware I could quite easily develop feelings for her. In fact, I worry that I might have already.

As I close my eyes again, a rendition of Sweet Home Alabama drifts through the door, reminding me of her annoying ring-tone. She's a great singer, actually has a lovely tone to her voice, but her choice of song is seriously getting on my nuggies. I jam the pillow around my ears and close my eyes again, wishing for even just ten minutes of sleep.

"Hey, you gonna get your ass out of bed, or do I get to work my very own 419 before breakfast?" Catherine's threat interrupts a very nice dream, and rockets me awake.

I pull the covers back from my face, and give her the evil eye. "What's the point in moving when I can't get access to the bathroom? I would've tried like twenty minutes ago but it was still on lockdown, while you were in there keening like a freakin' banshee."

"Good morning to you, too. It's called singing by the way, and I was in there for twenty minutes, tops," she says exasperated, as she jumps onto the bed and bounces up and down on it to annoy me.

"Quit bouncing or I'll bite you," I grab hold of her pillow and throw it at her. "And you were more like forty five minutes, what the hell do you find to do in there? Besides singing that awful song."

"God, you're so grumpy in the mornings," she flops back onto the bed and lies beside me. "And I only sing that song because I know you hate it."

"Oh it's all coming out now," I turn over on my back and arrange my pillows behind my head. "I didn't get much sleep last night, that's why I'm grumpy."

"How come?"

"Probably because I spent most of last night between your legs," I reply evilly.

"Honey, if you had, you'd still be smiling about it," she drawls sexily with a lazy grin, as she turns over on her side and rests against me.

"I'm serious; I was like your personal huggie bear. If I wasn't gripped between your thighs, I was pinned to the mattress. I've got toe prints in places you shouldn't even be able to reach," a grin escapes onto my face, my hormones suddenly awake at the thought of the way she wrapped herself around me last night, in her sleep.

"I had a list of priorities remember? I got the food and beer, I just never got laid," she chuckles, not in the slightest bit fazed we got closer last night than most married couples.

"All you had to do was ask, I'd have done anything to get you to keep still last night," I stretch languidly. "If you so much as wave a leg at me tonight, I'm gonna Velcro your ass to the sheets."

"Mmmm Sara, you really know how to turn a girl on," she teases with a sultry smile, and reaches out to brush my hair away from my eyes.

"Oh god, it's gonna be one of those days. You're going to wind me up no end 'cause I'm grouchy, and then watch as it sends me nuts," I groan, I should have recognised the expression on her face.

"Of course, what else would I do for fun all day?"

"Stick your fingers in the electrical outlet? You might not be laughing for long, but I'd sure as hell find it funny," I sit up blearily, and playfully slap her on the hip as I climb out of bed, and head for the now empty bathroom.

"Watch it, or I might just sneak in, and take advantage of you," she calls out, a smile evident in her voice.

"Come on then, lover-girl," I shout back as I climb into the shower. "But bear in mind, you touch it, you pay for it and I got a feeling you can't afford me."

"After what I'd do to you, you'd be happy to put out for free!" she giggles, causing me to smile grimly and reach for the cold water tap.

***

Ten minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom, showered, teeth brushed, and fully dressed while Catherine is _still_ fannying about. She's like an octopus, one hand is wielding the hair dryer like a deadly weapon, the other is deftly applying makeup, and she still somehow finds time to actually talk into the cell phone that's resting on her shoulder. Is there anything the woman can't do? I used to think of multi-tasking as being something simple, but Catherine turns it into an Olympic sport.

I check my appearance in the mirror, as she yacks away on the phone. Not bad at all Sidle, black does wonders for your ass, and the t-shirt is on the right side of tight. I'm not exactly sure the 'South American Mercenary Babe' look is ever going to catch on but I can happily live with it. I unzip my pants, and tuck my shirt in, deliberately taking my time. Let's see if that causes a reaction in Catherine 'Superpants' Willows.

"That was Grissom," she replies, turning the phone off, putting the hairdryer down and fumbling in a bag for her lipstick, all while she's trying to watch me.

"What did our intrepid leader want this morning?" I ask as I retrieve my gun from the safe. "Besides a really good kick up the ass."

"Reminding us not to be late for the welcome presentation," she replies, turning back toward the mirror, but not before I caught her looking at my ass.

Ooh, definitely caused a reaction.

"Well if you take any longer about getting ready, we'll just about make it in time for our flight home."

"I never realised you were this sarcastic," she replies, flashing me the middle finger, and slipping her boots on.

"You never realised I was this talented, you mean," I grin, and slide my holster onto my belt.

"In your dreams, Sidle," she replies, before clumping around heavily in her huge boots, as she begins turning the room upside down.

"What you looking for?" I brush past her and pick up my car keys.

I'm surprised when she reaches out and runs a hand down my arm, as I move past. I can't figure out whether she knew she was doing it, or whether it was an unconscious move. But I'd have to be seriously thick not to notice, that it's just about halfway possible she's got the hots for me. I decide to experiment a little and take hold of her hand, lacing our fingers together, immediately encouraged when she pulls me closer.

"My glasses, I had them last night before I went to sleep, but I can't seem to find them now," she replies, checking the bedside table and then looking up at me with a smile.

"My eyes are dim, I cannot see, my boots arrive ahead of me," I sing through my giggles, as she shoots me an evil glare.

"Quit laughing," she pushes me onto the bed, as she pins me down with her arms and legs. "Otherwise, I'm going to torture you seven different ways of Sunday."

"I can't help it, you're tiny and your boots are way past big."

"Just because you look fantabulous in your stuff," she grumps, let's go of my arms, and rests back on my hips.

Oh god, I'd be out of bed like a shot every morning if she promised to do this again. She looks down at me, her eyes seeking mine and holding them with a gentle gaze which I'm quickly getting used to. The feeling of her straddling me is something I can't even put into words, but I suspect the dictionary doesn't hold an adequate definition.

"Is fantabulous even a word? And you look great too; in fact, I'd even go so far as to say you look super sexy in your uniform," I reach out for her, rest my forearms on her thighs, and place a hand either side of her waist. "I just think you could benefit from boots that don't…"

"Don't even finish that sentence," she threatens playfully, running her hands up and down my arms, "and flattery is getting you nowhere."

"You've forgotten how to play nicely," I laugh as I wrestle her onto the bed and jump up, before she has a chance to stop me. "You just lay there and admire me in my uniform, while I search for your specs."

"What makes you think I need your permission?" she grins up at me, placing her arms behind her head.

"True, I already caught you looking this morning," I try to keep a straight face and expect her to blush at being caught out, but all she does is continue to smile at me.

"Which means you must have been looking at me in the first place," she points a finger at me and clicks her tongue, as she winks.

"Get a move on Willows, we're almost late. I'll go check in the bathroom for your glasses," I say, as a deep blush spreads across my body and her laughter reaches my ears.

Oh my god, it looks as if several of last night's unanswered questions have just been answered. Am I shocked? Totally. Am I gonna flirt unmercifully with her? Absolutely.

***

Half an hour later, we're entering the mess hall at the academy, to see a large group of people already gathered for the welcome speech. The room is criss-crossed with long tables, and the groups occupying them are busy talking and laughing loudly. It reminds me of high school, which probably explains my lack of enthusiasm, and the irrational urge to escape.

After queuing for breakfast, Grissom leads us to a table near the back so we can talk properly, without straining to hear every word that's spoken. Catherine takes a seat next to me, leaving Grissom to face us across the table. I can't help noticing he looks more pre-occupied than a supermodel at an 'all you can eat' buffet and keeps glancing at his watch, and then at his cell phone.

"What's wrong Gil?" Catherine asks, as she glances across the table at him. "You look so cheerful this morning."

"I'm okay, why wouldn't I be okay?" he says defensively.

"He's grouchy, I recognise the signs," I point in Grissom's direction with my knife, before taking a bite of my breakfast.

"Definitely grouchy," she agrees, as she sips her orange juice.

"I bet he's still pissed because you wrestled his room away from him," I snort with laughter, thinking back to the previous afternoon.

It all started off as we'd attempted to check in to the hotel. Grissom had decided he'd prefer to stay with us, rather than be alone on campus, and had proceeded to request two rooms. Ones with interconnecting doors no less, which caused Catherine to go on a rant about keeping the door locked and bolted, just in case he wandered in while she was in her skivvies. I immediately had visions of him popping through the door in his superman boxers to steal our teabags, which very quickly changed to erotic ones of Catherine prancing around the room in her scants.

As it turned out, he was lucky to get anything at all, since everyone else attending our course had the same idea we did, and baled on staying on campus. We were in fact lucky enough, to get the last couple of rooms in the hotel. Unfortunately, ours turned out to be a single room, which would have presented a bit of a problem at bedtime.

As we both pondered on the problem, and I got the feeling I'd be heading off to the bath again, this time with a pillow, we noticed Grissom was no longer standing with us. Catherine had then spotted him across the other side of the foyer, jabbing the elevator button as if he was playing fastest finger round on a game show. After she quickly interrogated the hotel clerk, it became apparent why he'd pulled the quarterback sneak. He'd taken the last double room in the hotel. And Catherine wanted it.

I leaned back against the reception desk, as I watched the drama unfold in front of me. Catherine took off across the lobby, hoping for a surprise attack on the flank. But Grissom's sixth sense must have alerted him, and he caught her on the approach. I'll never forget the look on his face, as he realised the elevator was still seven floors away. His concentration was intense, as he tried to mathematically work out the odds of making it into the elevator, before Catherine's booted foot connected with the collection of objects he kept in his pants.

But suddenly, the elevator failed him, having opened its door on the sixth floor just moments before. And for a split second, he looked like a cornered animal, as he tried to formulate another escape route. Catherine squared up for a fight to the death, and hitched her pants up the way many a brave warrior has just before battle. If she'd had time, she might just have stopped off along the way to polish her trusty nail file. But I think she'd decided to settle for bare knuckle combat. Lou-Ann must have rubbed off on her.

At that point, Grissom suddenly made a break to the left, in order to take the stairs, but Catherine was having none of it. I think it was a poor tactical choice. He's taller and heftier, and her smoking habit aside, she's lighter on her feet and so managed to change direction at the very last minute. He knew he'd had it, but he made one last brave effort, and gave another nearby elevator button a frantic jab on his way past. But it was the last desperate act of a dead entomologist walking. Even breaking into a sprint as he reached the foot of the stairs didn't help him, Catherine had pre-empted him and took measures. Give the woman her due, she caught him.

I then laughed myself stupid while he was forced to hand over the key, and stood there sulking while Catherine gave him a sound telling off. Only for the fact he's her boss, I'm convinced she'd have slapped his ass, grounded him, and taken his TV away for a week. The entire episode didn't do much to divert my suspicions that he's not entirely innocent. He was still trying to put Catherine and I, into situations where we're extremely close. I can't for the life of me figure out what he's up to.

In any case, Catherine and I had already decided to get our own back on him, and divesting him of his hotel room seemed like a damn good place to start. She really hadn't seemed to mind that she was going to share a bed with me. She maintained that she'd happily leave my oxygen supply intact, if I didn't steal the blankets or snore in my sleep. I on the other hand, was just thankful I wouldn't have to sleep in the bath again.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being victimised?" Grissom looks up at us, with a sudden grin.

"God, he finally speaks," Catherine rolls her eyes. "What are you on Gil, a two minute delay?"

"You wanna feel victimised? Share a room with Catherine," I giggle as she looks at me murderously. "She never stops moving around the bed, sleeps with her ass stuck up in the air, and takes up more than half the bathroom with her girly stuff. Not to mention stealing most of the drawer space because she brought her entire wardrobe."

"What about your snoring? I wondered if you were ever going to breathe out, when the pictures started to rattle in their frames. I thought it was an earthquake at one particular juncture," she gripes. "Much more of it and you can sleep in the bath."

Is the woman psychic? I was just thinking about the very same subject and then she goes and brings it up. Its way too creepy, and I'm beginning to feel sympathetic towards Lindsey. Her mother must have eyes in the back of her head.

"I still don't see why we had to swap," Grissom says, looking mutinous.

"We had no other option. There's two of us and only one of you, and we needed the double room," Catherine puts her fork down, and turns her attention to Grissom, "because I don't think Sara and I planned on being so close, that we had an orgasm every time one of us turned over in bed."

"Hey, you said you wanted to get laid, so give the man his bed back and work with me here," I grin with satisfaction, when I notice her face is flushed.

"We need to talk about our schedule," he chips in, typically oblivious as he shuffles through his welcome pack.

"You're gonna get yourself into trouble one of these days," she laughs, and shoots me a wink.

"Ladies, we need to discuss the timetable," Grissom tries again.

"So long as it's with you," I chuckle and go back to my food, before I have chance to misbehave myself any more than I already have done.

Grissom crosses his legs and rests his chin on his hand. "To hell with work; let's gossip girls. Either of you read Cosmo lately? There's a fantastic article in there on one hundred and one ways to please your man. I'm thinking of having it laminated."

We both burst out laughing at his voice. He sounds very convincing when he uses an effeminate tone and I'm reminded that the old Grissom used to play around like this once in a while. He's really never been the same since he took control of the lab; it made him too serious, too cerebral. It's nice to see a glimpse of the Grissom I used to know, it's a rare occurrence.

An evil idea suddenly takes shape in my mind; I'll think about it for a while longer and then mention it to Catherine.

"Sorry Gil, you carry on," Catherine pats his hand, with an apologetic smile.

"I can't remember what I was going to say," he rubs his chin, and looks thoughtful.

"Aww he's pre-occupied, I can't think why," I sense another chance to wind him up and I take it. "Oh, I wonder if it has anything to do with his sexcapades yesterday?"

Catherine already sensed where I was heading with it, and picks up the thread.

"He's probably missing his little blonde stewardess, after their torrid affair up against the paper napkin dispenser."

"Actually, its flight attendant," he says pedantically, as his ears go a bright shade of pink. "And I didn't touch her, I was teasing you both."

We know that, but it doesn't mean we're going to let up on tormenting him, as Catherine is about to demonstrate. "You expect us to believe that? When you climbed back into your seat, your face was flushed and your eyes were shining."

"You know, high altitude enhances the entire sexual experience. It increases the euphoria," he says. "I wasn't in the least bit euphoric."

"Well…it's good. I don't know if it's _that_ good," I state, take a sip of my juice and then realise too late what I've said.

Catherine's eyes go wide, and she places a hand on my leg. "Cite your source, both of you."

"I'm not saying anything," I shake my head adamantly. "Grissom, cite your source."

"A magazine," he answers uncomfortably.

"What magazine?" she asks, looking not entirely convinced.

"Applied Psychodynamics in Forensic Science."

"Never heard of it," she replies, believing his explanation about as much as I do. "Sara Sidle, quit avoiding my question and cite your source."

I sigh loudly. "Delta Airlines, Flight 1109, Boston-San Francisco June '93, TJ Carter. Hazel eyes, dark hair... overrated ... in ... every aspect. Can we get back to our breakfast now please?"

"I need to go make a phone-call," Grissom suddenly stands up. "I'll be back in time for the welcome speech; we've got a busy day ahead of us."

Catherine quirks another suspicious eyebrow at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise," he wags his finger at her, with a smile. "Catch up with you in a bit."

"What isn't he telling us?" I push my plate away and finish off my coffee, feeling much better now that I'd eaten and had my first fix of caffeine.

"I don't know, but he's been acting weirdly since yesterday. I dread to think about what he meant by his last comment."

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," I just wasn't sure either of us really wanted to.

***

An hour later, after the presentation, we were herded outside and had been told to line up in front of the main building. But nobody had really paid attention to the instructor and stood where they liked, chatting animatedly to friends or new acquaintances. Catherine and I are standing on the fringe of the group, enjoying a post-breakfast cigarette while we wonder how much longer Grissom is going to be.

The weather is a little chillier today, in the low sixties and it's quite breezy. I somehow have a feeling the state of the weather is going to matter later on and if it does, Grissom better start running. I take one last puff on my cigarette and stub it out before throwing the butt into the trash, as the instructor comes marching toward us.

"SILENCE! Ladies and Gentlemen," he barks. "Today marks the beginning of the first exercise in our two week long course. In a moment, you'll be provided with all of the equipment you're going to need in order to complete this task. Then people, you're going to get on that big yellow thing there, which we call a bus," he says condescendingly as he points toward the vehicle.

"I wonder if I'd get away with 'accidentally' discharging my weapon at his ass?" Catherine asks, having already taken a dislike to him an hour earlier, around about the same time I had.

"Discharge mine while you're at it."

He's been totally obnoxious all morning, and the speech he gave us earlier on would have been better suited to us invading a small country, and kicking the shit out of anything that moved.

"Then you'll be driven to a lovely little place we call Mount Tamalpais State Park," he carries on, with relish.

"Oh shit," my previously improved mood wears off.

"Specifically, in the area of Muir Woods National Monument. For a little exercise, in map reading," the instructor says, looking for all the world, like he enjoys the evil side of his job a little too much.

"Oh shitty shit," I say, as Catherine turns to me, and takes hold of my arm.

"That doesn't sound good, and why are you looking like somebody's just stolen your Grandma?" she asks, looking mildly worried.

"Hey, if you knew my Grandma, you'd have been pleased somebody had stolen her. But in answer to your question, It would seem we're going to toss about in a forest after all," I reply. "Muir Woods, is well…it's woods."

"No shit Sherlock, what gave it away? The name?" Catherine says dryly, as she rolls her eyes.

"You talk about _me_ being sarcastic," I shoot her a look. "It's a beautiful place; I've been there more than a few times. The only drawback is it's regularly shrouded in fog that drifts in from the coast, which makes everything soggy."

"And we're going to do what while we're there?" she looks at me like she's hoping I'm gonna break it gently to her, but I have no intention of sugar coating it.

"Sounds like we'll be required to pass through a series of checkpoints, and complete a given task, before we're allowed to move onto the next one. We'll be given a map of the route we're supposed to follow, and we'll all start out in different places so it's pointless following anyone. My guess is, they'll have us out there all day, because it's a lengthy process," I reply as the look on her face mirrors my own, sheer enthusiasm cleverly hidden by a pissed off look.

"Please don't ask me how to put your tent up, that's what the instructions are for!" the instructor goes pink the face as he shouts.

"Oh fuckity fuck fuck," I swear loudly, as both Catherine and a few people nearby hear me, and begin laughing.

"They're going to have us out there all night?" Catherine looks horrified, as I nod mutely.

"Sidle!" the instructor hones in on me. "You got something funny you want to share with the rest of us?"

"Nope, we're all still busy pissing our pants from the speech you gave us this morning," I respond, as the rest of the group joins in the laughing.

His eyes bulge dangerously and a vein begins throbbing in his forehead. He doesn't frighten me, and even if he did, I've got my very own nuclear weapons system standing right beside me. Catherine could kick his weedy little ass in her sleep.

"YOU'RE GOING THE RIGHT WAY ABOUT GETTING A REPRIMAND, SIDLE!" he screams, the vein in his forehead getting bigger.

"You're going the right way about having a stroke. You realise what happens when your blood pressure goes up like that?" I say conversationally, as Catherine giggles uncontrollably next to me. "It kills off your brain cells man, which I realise probably won't affect you in the slightest, but it could be a bit of a problem for everyone else around you when you start dribbling even more than you do now."

"I'M GOING TO TALK TO YOUR SUPERVISOR! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Half of Colorado heard you, and if you want to talk to my boss, go ahead. She's standing right next to me," okay that's a lie since she isn't my supervisor but this could be fun.

"That right, huh?" his moustache twitches as he gets closer. "You're her supervisor Ma'am?"

"That's right, and don't call me Ma'am, it could seriously shorten your life," Catherine gives him one of her best icy glares, and he takes a step backward. "You wanted to make a complaint?"

He twitches again, but doesn't attempt to speak and I think he's temporarily lost for words. I would be too if I was him, I'd also grab my balls and run for cover, because Catherine is formidable when she gets going.

She carries on when he still doesn't speak. "I'm tempted to make a complaint of my own actually. You've been nothing but rude since you opened your mouth, Sergeant Thompson, and if you don't quit it, my boot might just find its way up your ass along with the barrel of my P220. Got it?"

That just happened to be pretty sexy; I love it when she's pissed. He doesn't take the same view. The fact everyone is laughing at the way she just told him off, is threatening to make his blood pressure shoot off the scale.

"I won't make a complaint this time, but I think we all know what just happened here," he says with ill disguised fury, because he knows he's made himself look like a fool.

"Yeah, you backed right off, you big girls blouse" I say under my breath as Catherine bites her lip and giggles again.

"Is that all Sergeant? I think it would be prudent if we got back to the point of our reason for being here," she effectively dismisses him and he walks away with as much dignity as he can muster.

"Is that what you meant, about not taking crap from jerks that are used to giving it out all day long?" I say, hugely proud of her for silencing him the way she did.

"Yep, did you find it sexy?" she teases, catching the look on my face.

"I did actually, but then I always have," I wink at her, as a look of shock settles on to her features.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

By the time we reach our destination, its edging on 11am and a huge cloud formation has moved in from the coast. As we climb off of the bus, a strong breeze gusts around us and it's definitely colder than……and then it suddenly hits me. Grissom isn't with us.

After we'd been chivvied onto the bus, I'd fallen asleep, and spent almost the entire journey drooling on Catherine, so it hadn't clicked till now that we'd been left to fend for ourselves out in the wilderness. Still, Grissom is hardly Indiana Jones. He probably had the outdoor skills of a Tellytubby, so I figured it was no great strategic loss. But I would miss my chance to coat him in honey, and leave him for the animals.

"Grissom's pulled a fast one," I say, hefting my bag onto my shoulder, and picking up various bits of our equipment, from where they've been dumped on a patch of soil at the back of the bus.

Catherine shakes her head with disbelief, when she realises he never came back from making his phone call. "That sneaky bastard. I bet he had no intention of coming back."

"Probably didn't want to break a fingernail, the big floozy," I sigh deeply, and make sure we've got everything.

"I'll break both his legs when I catch him. You got the map? And do you know how to read one?" Catherine asks, as she sorts her half of the equipment out.

"You mean that big square thing with the writing on?" I say sarcastically, as she sticks her tongue out at me.

"You know, if you're just gonna burn my briskets," she picks the last of our stuff up and we set out towards the starting line, "then I'm gonna tape your mouth shut, and leave you out here to die."

"Just lay down next to me, your legs would do all the hard work for you," I reply tetchily, regressing into a sulky teenager.

"Not a chance, Sidle. If I'm going to murder you, you're sure as hell not going to enjoy it."

"You sure only danced around a pole with those legs, or did you crack walnuts with them in your spare time?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she grins, knowing it annoys me that she smiles, when I'm trying to bitch at her.

"I would actually, might save a fracture or two."

"Hey, newsflash, you're not exactly sleeping beauty yourself. Besides snoring, you talk in your sleep. If I have to hear one more theory about Quantum Mechanics, I'm definitely going to tape your mouth shut and see how you theorise your way out of that one!"

"Oh I see which way this is going," I pause to get our log book signed by one of the officials, and then we start off down the trail. "Well, while we're at it, you've got a horrible habit of singing in the shower."

"What were you even doing in the bathroom? You know, if you're going to hang around while I'm naked, you could at least be honest about it," she throws her hands up in the air, and grins at me again.

"I wasn't in the bathroom. The screeching escaped through the door, and you know that song you were singing? It's still fucking awful," I make sure I state this for the record, which will probably only result in her singing it even more.

"You've got fucking awful taste in music yourself, but do I burst into the lab and tell you to zip it?" she turns to me, as she continues waving her hands about.

"No, but I seem to remember you telling me to shut up at a crime scene once. There I am humming a kick ass melody, and you get all on edge and tell me to wrap it up, before you put your scene case to good use by ramming it up my ass!"

"In case you hadn't noticed Sidle, we were searching for a murder weapon in something neither of us could identify at that point. So next time you feel like cranking a tune out when we're waist deep in shit, you'll get the same response!"

"Excuse me," a young woman taps me on the shoulder. "I wondered if you could direct me to the nearest restroom, please."

Catherine puts her bag down on the floor, and turns her attention to the woman. "Honey, you're standing in a forest. Pick a tree and pee behind it already, would ya."

"Don't mind her, she's having an attack of PMS, and we're on the trail of a killer squirrel, so she's way focused," I say, as the woman begins to look a little wary of us. "The nearest rest room is a quarter of a mile that way, be sure to stick to the trail and you'll see it."

"Thank you," she replies hurriedly, and scurries off as fast as her legs can carry her.

"Another satisfied customer," I say with a grin, realising we've been bitching at each other again and its even more fun that it used to be.

"Killer squirrel?" she snorts with laughter. "Hey, I'm not eating anything I have to kill by the way."

"Sweetie, the only thing you've ever killed is my good mood," I quip, as I hold out my hand to her and she takes it.

"Not your libido then, babe?" she grins wickedly, flirting in response to my sarcasm and damn it's working.

"Cath, should I be worried? I mean we're gonna have to share a tent tonight and if you turn out to be some sort of sex fiend, you can find a tree to sleep against."

"I didn't hear you complaining last night," she fishes in her pocket for her cigarettes and lights one for me, before passing it over.

"I'd had six beers; you know I'm not in my right mind to complain about anything after the fourth. I only objected when I tried to get out of bed to pee, and found you nailing me to it."

"Quit moaning about it, and realise how lucky you are," she laughs. "Take poor little Greggo for instance, he'd pay good money to have my legs wrapped around him and you're getting it for free."

"The difference being is Greg wouldn't know what to do with any woman, never mind you, being as you're his ultimate fantasy," I blow smoke out and feel my cheery mood returning.

"And you would I suppose?" she gives me another of her lazy grins, and it makes my stomach jolt.

"Wait; don't tell me, this is step two of you trying to get laid right? Well don't even try it on, because I've never had sex in a tent, and I don't wanna start now," I watch as she throws her head back and laughs.

"What about up against a tree?" her eyes twinkle with devilment.

"Bark burn," I grimace. "And there's no way I'm rubbing cream on your butt until it gets better. Wait till we're back at the hotel, I'll give your engine block a damn good overhaul, then."

"Only if you cover yourself in oil smears, and wear your overalls for me," she wiggles her eyebrows, but her smile quickly disappears when her phone begins ringing. "It's Eddie. Damn, you think this far out I wouldn't even get a signal."

"Cath, that phone has so many bells and whistles, that you could probably get a signal on Mars," I let go of her hand and take a few items from her, so she can use her phone properly. "Talk to him, or he's just gonna keep calling you."

"I'd rather just switch it off," she sighs but answers her phone anyway. "Ed, you're gonna have to speak up…huh? How the hell should I know... well that's generally what happens when kids go on a school trip, they disappear for the duration or it wouldn't be a trip!"

I take a seat on a nearby log and she sits down next to me, taking hold of my hand again, while she's on the phone. I can't make out what he's saying, and can only surmise from her side of the conversation. But whatever it is must be bad, since she's holding onto me in a death grip and if I was Eddie, I'd seriously think about taking out life insurance.

***

I look at my watch, it's now after 1pm and I'm still munching away on my lunch as I contemplate a solution to our first challenge. It can't be all that difficult surely, but I'm damned if I can think of a way to solve it. That's what I get for letting my hormones get the better of me. They devote all my brainpower to finding new and novel ways to get laid, while outwardly I look, sound and feel like a complete moron. I take my seat next to Catherine again, on a patch of grass bathed in patchy sunlight and finish off my sandwich.

I like it out here, there's something beautiful about sitting among the trees, and appreciating the things nature gave us, rather than ripping it up and tipping a shitload of concrete on it. I can't remember ever enjoying it this much before though, and I'm willing to bet that it's because of Catherine's presence. She used to annoy the hell out of me, and now I feel so comfortable and grounded around her. It's like we have this connection, and it's always been there but it was ignored until now. I can't explain it, but I definitely feel it and I think she's feeling it too.

"Figured out a way yet?" she asks, before taking a mouthful of water and handing me the bottle.

"No, not yet," I answer absentmindedly, and take a drink as I will my brain cells to give me some answers.

"We're going about this all the wrong way," she stretches, and then leans against me, closing her eyes and catching an elusive ray of sun on her face.

The object of the exercise was to place the antenna we'd been given, high enough so that we were able to send and receive a signal, which would allow us to move onto the next part of the exercise, at checkpoint number two. So far, nothing we'd done would pick up a signal.

"Whose stupid idea was this anyway?" I sigh and wrap an arm around her as I go rifling through my bag for cigarettes. "Oh I know; it was Grissom's. Does that count towards his death warrant?"

"Worth a death warrant in its own right, but it's not such a bad idea when you think about it. It's supposed to teach us to work together," she accepts a cigarette, and scratches her head as she dwells on the problem.

"We do that well enough anyway. If there was a corpse within a ten mile radius of this place, I could make my point."

She tilts her head to one side, so she can look at me. "Then this should be a piece of cake right?"

"Well short of parachuting out of my private jet, with the antenna in tow, I'm stumped," I reply, my sarcasm in full swing again.

"God, you University types don't know how to think outside of the box," she teases. "There's no rules right?"

"Only as regards death and loss of limb. Can't stand on anything, can't climb up anything. Other than that, I don't think they care."

"See that tree there? The one with the branch?"

"Cath, it's a forest and it's full of trees, and guess what? They've all got branches."

She pulls me to my feet, and wraps an arm around my waist, as she sighs loudly. "If you're going to be like that, I'm not playing anymore."

"What did you have in mind, oh wise one?" I throw my arm across her shoulders and hug her to me, as I enjoy the close proximity.

"Well, the rules state we can't stand on top of anything or climb up anything. We can only use ourselves to get the antenna up as high as we possibly can right?"

"Right."

"So, that branch hanging down over there, its high but not high enough that I couldn't throw the antenna over it."

"No offence, but you're a bit of a short ass, so how you going to manage that?"

"By sitting on your shoulders," she pats me on the hip. "On your knees, Sidle."

"Right away mistress," I sink to my knees with a grin. "Anything particular you had in mind for me while I'm down here, or are we continuing to wing it?"

"Nice try, but if I'm sitting on your shoulders, you're gonna need to face in the opposite direction," she laughs, and much to my amusement, blushes brightly.

"What for? I don't need to see where I'm going," I grin evilly.

"I swear to god, I worry about you at times," she shakes her head, and stands behind me, before throwing her legs over my shoulders.

After a nervous couple of minutes of me getting to my feet and almost overbalancing, we get used to it and learn to move as one. Well, all except for when she moved without telling me and I end up kissing the nearest Redwood. But finally we've positioned ourselves and she swings her arm back, launching the antenna up into the air.

"Yesss," she wriggles on my shoulders in a celebratory dance, as it catches on the branch.

"Hey, keep still. If I end up snogging wood again, you're in for it, Cath."

"You might want to rephrase that, since I'm damn sure it's illegal, even out here in the woods," she chuckles, as I place her back down on the floor.

"Yeah yeah, very funny, Einstein. Let's see if it works," I pick up the transmitter, and switch it on.

The radio crackles into life, and I send a message. It's a tense few seconds until the confirmation arrives that it's been received and understood. Which in turn, causes us to end up dancing around, like teenagers.

"Well done, Willows," I pick her up and swing her off her feet.

"You too Sara, nice job," she wraps her arms around my shoulders.

That's when it happens again, another moment passes between us, just like it did outside of the Luxor, and I see her eyes gravitate toward my lips. If I didn't care, I'd kiss her. I know that sounds weird, but if all I wanted was a kiss or a quick grope, then I'd give in to it. But I won't, because I think much more of her than that, and I value the friendship we're trying to build. I decide its best to put a little physical distance between us until the moment passes, because I don't want us to run before we can walk. We need to learn to be friends first.

"You want try that shoulders thing again, facing the other way this time?" I joke, trying to carry on as normal, as I place her back down on terra firma.

"Get me into our tent in one piece, and I might just dance round the pole for you," she winks at me seductively.

"You're that short, you could probably manage it," I giggle, as she swipes me across the hip with her baseball cap.

"We better get moving, it will be dark in a few hours, and we've got a long way to go," she says, taking hold of my hand again, as we move off down the trail.

***

By the time 6pm rolls around, we're 4 check points better off, and decide to call it a day. We'd signed in at the last check point and they'd provided us with water and food before we headed off to pick a place to sleep for the night. We'll continue on to the last checkpoint in the morning, before being bussed back to campus. Whereupon we're going to hunt Grissom down and give his ass a sound kicking before murdering him. Catherine recommended burying him somewhere on campus, so he can continue to enjoy the atmosphere. It's the only thought keeping us going.

A few yards off the trail, we find a nice spot that's more than adequate to shelter us for the night. Catherine radios in with our position, exactly as we were told to, and I set about sorting dinner out, since we're both starving. As I'm busy with that, Catherine fishes the tent out so we can get a look at our 'boudoir' for the night.

"Oh my god," Catherine exclaims. "That's not a tent, that's a pair of bikini bottoms."

She's caught my funny bone again, and I sit there giggling, as she looks horrified at the size of our sleeping accommodation.

"Good luck dancing around the pole in that," I wink at her.

"Well, I hope you're prepared to have my entire body wrapped around you tonight honey, because this is a small ass tent," she husks.

It's a one man tent, and if she's thinking the same thing I am, then we're probably thinking Sergeant Thompson gave it to us on purpose. Not that I really care, I don't mind being in a confined space with her. More of an excuse to cuddle her right? I'm shocked at just how much control my evil hormone bunnies have over my brain now, but I'm loving every minute of it.

"So, now you really will have an orgasm every time I turn over," I reply, knowing if I could do that, I'd be turning over all night long.

"I was just going to ask what we'd do to pass the time once it goes dark, but you've just answered my question for me. Looks like I really will get laid, after all," a seductive tone creeps into her voice, and she flashes me an alluring smile.

"Gotta keep your mind off the rogue squirrel somehow," I shrug. "I don't mind sacrificing my virgin status just for you."

"Yeah right, flight 1109 says differently," she chortles.

"Busted," I concede. "But, just like the San Andreas Fault, I'm about to rock your world baby cakes."

Her mouth drops open, before a slow grin spreads across her face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Oh my god. I do believe my underwear is just mere minutes away from bursting into flames. Catherine is wrapped around me so tightly, that I'm not sure where I end, and she begins. The fact she's moaning softly in her sleep and pressing herself against me isn't helping any, either. It's threatening to send me right round the twist, and I'm already too close to insanity to be able to afford the brain cells.

On contemplating a solution to my problem, I come up with three: A) Lie here and solve the mystery of spontaneous human combustion, but unfortunately be too dead to take advantage of the fact. B) Make the best of the situation, and cook breakfast on my fudgies, or C) Get the hell out of the tent, and avert a national disaster.

I think I'm going to go with option C. There's no way I'm being filmed completely naked by a news crew in a helicopter, after having burned the entire state park to the ground. Climbing out of the tent just happens to be a feat of endurance, since I've got Squiddly Diddly Willows refusing to relinquish her hold on me. Short of waking her up, and confessing I'm hornier than a Quarterback drooling over a busload of Cheerleaders, there's not much I can do but gently battle on.

I finally manage to stumble out of the tent, and into the eerie pre-dawn silence of the forest. Fog has drifted in during the night, and the cool damp air on my skin after the near nuclear atmosphere of the tent, is a huge relief. I automatically sit against the same tree I did last night, and remember too late that the ground is wet, as the moisture soaks through my pants. Oh well, that's cooled my libido, as well my ass. My hands shake as I fumble for my cigarettes, if I'm going to calm down and get my thoughts in any sort of order; nicotine usually helps with the process.

Last night changed my view on Catherine forever. It taught me a few things about life in general, but more specifically about her. I'm pleased to find out she's nothing like I thought she would be, and everything I hoped she would be. She's certainly much different than anyone else I've ever been attracted to. Aside from trust and all of the other obvious important issues, the one question I always asked myself was this: would I really be able to enter into a relationship with this person, and spend day after day restraining myself from jabbing a fork repeatedly into their eyes, over dinner?

The answer was always, no. But with Catherine, the answer would be a resounding yes, and that's probably because I'm experiencing her ass about face. I mean let's face it; you usually see the nicer side of a person at first. But then when you really get to know them, or move in with them for example, they turn into the biggest pain in the ass it's ever been your misfortune to meet in all your born days.

You know the kind of person. They start out like the best thing since sliced bread, and six months later, they leave wet towels everywhere, turn the house into a landfill, never come home when they say they will, and you're firmly convinced they'd sell their future kids just for a beer. No? Must just be my dating history then…

Whereas, I'm seeing the nicer side of Catherine now after copping for all the shit, beforehand. Something tells me that if more relationships started off like this, there wouldn't be as many breakups. Having said that, it could well be a result of bumping somebody off the minute they annoy you. Ah well, nature dictates everything has a downside, can't argue with that.

In any case, while it's true that Catherine and I share a lot of the same views, we're also different enough to make things interesting. She keeps me on my toes and she challenges me. I think we'll always quarrel to some extent, always have our differences. But that's the beauty of it; we'll never bore each other or get so similar that we'll feel we never have to try anymore.

That's why I have to tell her that I nailed my rainbow flag to the mast years ago. If I'm ever going to confirm my suspicions that she's attracted to me, then the next logical step is to tell her I'm gay. Besides, last night, she told me more than a few important things about herself, and I think it's only fair to return that level of trust.

I don't think I'd be so eager to see how far I could push things; if it wasn't for the way Catherine seems to be testing the water too. So I figure its more than worth giving it a shot, and even if it goes wrong, its better than looking back in forty years time and thinking I should have gone for it, regretting that I didn't until my last breath. And with Catherine, I couldn't help not regret it because she's something very special. If I'm wrong, it will hurt like hell but ultimately, I'll live. If it works out, everything will be fine and I'll wonder why I was ever scared in the first place.

The sun is just about to come up against an azure blue sky, and the fog has quietly faded away. Now how's that for a metaphor? Quite honestly, it's a crappy one because my brain is still in a state of disarray, my butt cheeks are cold…._and_ just 'cause I say so.

"Where the hell am I?" Catherine's top half emerges from the tent, as she screws her eyes up against the daylight.

"Jesus," I jump a couple of inches into the air, and clutch hold of my chest as my heart thumps dangerously fast. "If you're trying to kill me Catherine, just flash your boobs at me and it will get the job done a whole hell of a lot goddamn quicker!"

"Were we drinking again last night?" she asks, plainly still not on the same planet as the rest of us, as she tries to figure out where she is.

"Cath?" no time like the present, hit her with it while she's still partially asleep.

Good plan, you big cowardy custard.

"Yes, honey?"

"I'm gay."

"That's an improvement, you were a grumpy son of a bitch when you woke up yesterday morning," she rubs her eyes, and yawns.

I snort with laughter, and can't help but wonder if I really should have picked a better time. "No, I didn't mean…"

"You meant you like women," she states, and squints up at me from the floor, still not looking as if she's fully plugged in and with us yet.

"Yes, I'm a lesbian," brilliantly put Sidle. Being a gay female, you would be a lesbian, you big moron.

And that ladies and gentlemen, is the sound of perfect silence. It's not even a pregnant pause or a wee rest stop so the woman can draw breath. Nope, it's complete, and utter, silence. She looks down at the floor, then up at me again, and then back down at the floor. All whilst trying to focus and get rid of that 'just been dragged through a hedge backwards' look.

Okay she's officially driving me nuts, now. I wish she'd just say something, anything. Even if it's just to tell me she can't accept who and what I am. She licks her lips, rubs her eyes and then pushes her hair back, before looking up at me blankly again.

I guess that means she hasn't got the hots for me, after all. Since she hasn't exploded from the tent, and brought me down to the forest floor in a fit of unbridled, passionate lust, whilst expertly removing my undies and tickling my tonsils with her tongue. I'm a bit annoyed to be honest, because I spent a long time perfecting my gaydar, and the bastard chooses now to stop working.

"Catherine, for god sake…" I say, feeling exasperated with her, even though I shouldn't be.

"What?" she yawns, and crawls to her knees, before standing up and stretching.

"You know perfectly well…" when Sweet Home Alabama suddenly breaks the silence, I'm more than ready to commit a few large acts of random violence. "I'm going to go postal_ any minute now_, if you don't change that freakin' ringtone!"

"It's Eddie, again." She looks unaffected by my threat, and casually tosses the phone to one side. "You know, he once told me he'd go to the ends of the earth for me. Now I regret not asking him to fucking stay there. Go on, you were saying?"

"I just told you I'm gay, and you stand there looking at me like I just asked if you want coffee."

"What did you want me to do?" her eyes meet mine. "Scream 'oh shit, apocalypse now'?"

"You know what I mean. God you drive me nuts!" As I stand up, I realise just how soggy my pants are, and that's an experience I won't be repeating in a hurry.

She stands back, and watches as I flounce around, mumbling to myself. I expected some sort of reaction, but there was nothing, just a sort of a half assed acceptance. I realise it's a whole lot better than her hating me for it, which quite honestly I was dreading, so I can't figure out why my eyes are leaking.

That's how horror movies start. You get a woman standing in a forest crying, her nose dripping, and putting the viewers off their munchies, while you know there's some Sociopathic asshole standing behind her just waiting to tickle her skull with a meat cleaver. Okay, so Cath isn't a Sociopath, or at least she's not _this_ week and I think Grissom's in more danger of having his hairdo re-arranged than I am, but that beside the point.

"Sara," she calls out softly, from behind me.

"Yeah?" I try for confident and calm, but it comes out like a fart in a wind tunnel: small and squeaky.

"You want to come here a minute?"

I try to wipe my eyes without her seeing but she's probably already noticed. I take a deep breath and turn around, walking the few feet to where she's standing.

She lifts my chin with her hand and forces me to look at her. "I don't care if you're gay, I don't care if your real name is Hooter Stumpfuck, or whether your ass lights up and plays Elvis in the dark. I care about you exactly the way you are, and that will never change."

I feel laughter vibrate through my body, and I can tell by a glance she's serious, even though she's smiling. "Nothing at all?"

"It doesn't change a thing, Sara. Remember when you told me I should never want to change for anyone?" she asks, and I nod. "You shouldn't either, sweetheart. I think you're amazing exactly the way you are."

I nod weakly and close my eyes as she kisses me on the forehead, and pulls me into her arms. A feeling of peace settles over me, I wish I could have done this a long time ago.

"Thanks, Cath," I say softly, hugging her tightly and feeling hugely relieved. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Hey no need to thank me, 'cause I guess this improves my chances of getting laid now, huh?" she chuckles throatily as she pulls back to look at me, and I can't help smiling, because she's still comfortable around me.

"In your dreams! God just 'cause I'm gay doesn't mean I'd jump into bed, and wang you one," I joke, and she looks relieved that we're quickly getting back to normal.

"Wang me one?" she says with a laugh. "Well, I've never heard it described quite like that before. Come here, Sidle, and give me another hug."

"Anything for you, sexpot," I wink at her, and wrap my arms around her again.

"I'm sorry if I upset you by not saying anything at first," she rubs my back gently. "I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. I was shocked you'd told me though, but I'm glad you did, it shows you trust me."

"Very much so," I lean back and smile at her. "I really don't want to break this up, but if I don't go and dry off, my ass will wind up looking like a prune."

Her hand explores a little. "Yeah, definitely a little a wet down there. See the effect I have on you?"

My face goes a deep crimson colour, and she howls with laughter. "Catherine Willows!"

"Go get changed," she says, slapping me on the behind. "I'll sort coffee out."

I do exactly as I'm told, before she says anything else that will threaten to prematurely put an end to my life. Looks like my gaydar works after all. Oh what a gay day, indeed.

***

Two hours later, Catherine and I come crawling out of the forest, soaking wet and looking like a couple of extras from Saving Private Ryan. Sergeant Thompson chooses that moment to turn around, flashes us a shit eating grin and greets us with a sarcastic wave. He looks suspiciously clean and well rested, and I'd bet my ass he didn't spend the night in a tent. I bet he scurried off to the nearest Howard Johnson the minute it went dark. We're one of the first few groups to make it back, and ordinarily I'd be pleased about that but I'm too tired to give a damn. Catherine and I, have just spent the last hour and a half almost up to our waists in a freezing cold river, poncing about trying to complete the final task, and the last thing I need right now is that genetic defective grinning at me like he's just won the state lottery.

"Sidle, I almost didn't recognise you," he smirks, "Enjoyed the night in your tent, I hope."

I'm not going to bite.

"You're not complaining?" he places a hand to his chest, and pretends to look shocked. "My, my, I guess you're getting the hang of keeping your big trap shut after all."

I'm going to bite.

"Swivel on it, numbnuts," I flip him the middle finger and a vein appears on his forehead, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut. "My tent was very handy thank you, and I don't mind ramming it up your ass just to prove my point! Failing that, my right boot could get better acquainted with your balls, take your pick!"

He takes a glance at the grubby looking band of refugees standing around him, whom just yesterday were all perfectly normal people. Each one of them looks as if they could quite happily string him up from the nearest tree, after being stuck out here all night. Quite honestly, his chances of survival aren't all that great at the moment, and he's trying to figure out how to haul himself out of the shit before everyone starts lighting torches and baying for his blood. Personally, I'd be more than happy to regress a few thousand years, and hunt the asshole down with a very sharp spear, preferably near the edge of a cliff.

"Hey, before you get balls kicked in," Catherine chips in, "could we get a cup of decent coffee here? If not, we'll tie you up and eat your assistant over there. I bet he tastes just like chicken."

There's more than a few snorts of laughter and the guy in question, smiles in a panicked sort of a way and takes a few steps closer to the bus, just in case we really do decide to wig out and turn cannibal. The rest of them can if they want, now that Catherine put the idea in their heads, but I wouldn't touch the Sergeant or his assistant, unless it was to tickle their ribs with a baseball bat.

"Officer Smith, hand out the provisions," he orders and stalks off, knowing he's just lost another round.

"That's my girl," I grin, and drag Catherine off by the hand to grab a well deserved seat.

***

"Listen up people!" the Sergeant says, marginally quieter than he was before.

"Oh what now," Catherine's hand unconsciously strays to the gun on her belt, as if she's tempted to give him a few handy ventilation holes in the cranium.

"Okay ladies and gentlemen, this exercise requires no less than 100% honesty. You'll be required to give each other marks out of ten on all the questions. This will give you the chance to explore many of the different facets of your working partnership. Get to it, you've got an hour to answer your questions before we sit and have an informal chat at the end."

Catherine and I roll our eyes at each other, feeling as if we've been out here long enough, but are too tired to argue.

I run through the paper quickly just to see what it's all about. Apparently it's mostly about finding out what level of trust exists between you, and your law enforcement partner. You can see a mile off that it's been specifically tailored for cops, and thankfully, most of the time Catherine and I don't do anything more dangerous than argue with each other back at the lab.

Occasionally our jobs have dangerous bits that aren't limited to infectious and/or volatile substances. But its few and far between, I can count on one hand how many times I've had a serious run-in with a suspect during my career. Statistically, we're more likely to die from the terrible coffee in the break room.

"Okay, question one," Catherine starts. "As my partner, whilst caught in a situation where you could be called upon to save my life, would you put my safety ahead of your own?"

"In a heartbeat," I answer honestly.

"Really?" she grins, the lesson forgotten for the moment. "Ten out of ten for you, then. That's really sweet"

"Yes really, and thank you," I grin back. "Would you?"

"Would I what?" she teases, with a flirty look.

"Never mind, you're only getting a three on that one," I stick my tongue out at her. "Question two; you're hanging from the ledge of a building after slipping off whilst chasing a suspect, and in order to survive…Jesus, where did they find these questions, in a Mills and Boon novel?" I say incredulously.

She chuckles tiredly. "Get a move on Sidle; we've only got an hour."

"Right, in order to survive, you have to trust your partner, and let go of the ledge. You can't see anything and all you hear is your partner's voice, would you let go?"

"Absolutely, without a second thought," she gazes at me with her beautiful blue eyes, and it takes all of my willpower to focus. "Question three, name three things you admire about your partner."

"Your intelligence, your dedication to your job and your ass in those pants," I shoot a grin at her, knowing neither of us wants to seriously do this exercise, even though my answer was an honest one.

She flashes me a shy smile, and then covers her face with her hands, as it turns bright red. "Shut up."

"Next question, Cath," I lean across the picnic table, as I chuckle and pat her on the shoulder.

"It's your turn, oh nerdy one," she teases, her cheeks still flaming.

"Thank you for pointing it out, GI Jane," I say, as she narrows her eyes playfully at me. "Question seven hundred and thirty five, section twelve, subsection forty-two, paragraph 6A. Would you, or would you not, like to go out with me on Friday?"

Okay, that's the hard part done. I didn't call it a date, just going out, so I can make sure it's not awkward on either of us if she turns me down. I'm not exactly making a play for her as such, but now I've got no secrets, I want to keep the momentum going and see what happens between us. She momentarily looks down at the page, trying to figure out which question I'm on until she realises what I've just asked, and beams as she looks up at me.

"I'd definitely like to go out with you on Friday," the tone of her voice drops an octave. "Am I to take it, that it's not the kind of date where we'd want Grissom tagging along?"

Now I know she isn't playing, she used the word date. Okay focus, Sidle, think clearly about your answer.

"That er… could sorta, would kinda depend," I stumble over my words, so much for that then.

"On what?" she leans closer to me, the exercise now completely forgotten.

"You know, I really have no idea. You've thrown me for a loop by saying yes," the worlds tumble out of their own accord, as I laugh.

"So you _were_ asking me on a date," she smiles, and rests her chin on her hand.

"I didn't use that specific word," I say, my face burning and my heart racing, as I realise I've been caught out on a technicality.

This is proof that the woman is a phenomenal CSI, she can spot a lie a mile off, even though my lips started flapping before my brain was in gear. I can see I'm going to have my work cut out, just another reason I know life around her will never be boring.

"Didn't you?" she grins, knowing she's tying my brain up in knots.

"No," the squeaky voice thing starts again.

"So you don't think I'm good enough to ask out on a date?" her brow furrows, and her smile disappears.

"I never said that…" okay panic stations, I've managed to upset her, and how I'm going to manage to explain that around my foot in my mouth is anybody's guess. "I think you're more than good enough to date…I…"

A peal of laughter escapes from her, and she looks up at me with twinkling eyes. "Relax, I'm teasing."

"You're not funny," I grump at her, but I'm still smiling. "Why do you insist on winding me up?"

"You're easy, that's why," she winks at me.

"And what if I do ask you out on a date?" I quickly flip the situation, and see how she deals with it.

"I thought you already had," she grins slowly, causing me to realise that no matter what I do, she feels confident enough in her responses.

I almost forget to breathe when she reaches across the table, and runs her fingertip over the back of my hand very gently, discretely moving higher up my arm when she's reasonably sure nobody is watching. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and I'm irretrievably lost for words with just a single look from her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have thirty minutes to finish your questions!" The Sergeant says loudly, startling us both.

"Somebody should think about stapling his mouth shut," Catherine says in annoyance.

"I know, but the quicker we do this, the quicker we can get home," I say as I try to concentrate, for the next half an hour at least. "Question number four…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 9  
**

When Friday night finally arrives, my panic shoots up a notch. I've been looking forward to this since the moment I asked Catherine out on Tuesday, but now it's finally here, I'm edgier than a politician in a brothel. I probably shouldn't be, since everything between us has been running like clockwork, which is more amazing than it sounds. I only had to hold my face a certain way once upon a time, and we'd end up throwing verbal grenades at each other for days on end.

Now I only have to hold my face a certain way, and she's falling over herself to get near me. What changed I wonder? Hormones, that's what. The same thing responsible for me tripping over my big grubby tongue, any time she does something remotely sexy. But thanks to said hormones, anything remotely sexy can range from watching tv, to reading the newspaper a certain way. Suffice it to say, that while getting to know each other a whole lot better, we've taken every opportunity to get as close as we can. The only time we've spent apart this week, is when one of us needs to use the bathroom or to take a shower.

"Cath?" I shout through the bathroom door.

"Yeah?"

"How much longer you gonna be? I need to grab a few things," in the time it's taken her to have a bath, I could have put a ship in a bottle or devised a new method of space travel.

"Come in," she replies, "door isn't locked."

Those are the very words that are calculated to send my rampant hormones up a level, and now that I know I have to go in there, they take on a life of their own. Slowly pushing the door open, I will my heartbeat to slow down, but it ignores me as I grab an eyeful of Catherine in the bath, surrounded by a mountain of bubbles.

"Your phone rang again by the way, it was Eddie," I grab a couple of items and lean against the door frame, trying to look unaffected and cool, but seeing a shapely leg propped up on the side of the bath turns my insides to liquid. "I didn't bother answering."

"He can kiss my ass, I spoke to him less than two hours ago, he's driving me nuts," she sighs heavily, the strain showing on her face, so whatever they talked about must be taking its toll.

"You want a glass of wine? Might help you relax," I smile down at her, as she tilts her head to one side and looks at me tenderly.

"I'd love one, but only if you grab a glass, and come sit with me," she says, and I nod, not being able to refuse.

A few minutes later, I close the door behind me again, and hand her a glass, before climbing up onto the vanity unit opposite the bath. I realise I've never sat in a bathroom to chat with anybody, not even a lover and I find myself liking the intimacy of it. It's got nothing to do with the fact she's naked underneath all that water, well not as such.

Being in a state of nakedness is a vulnerability for most people, so I guess she trusts me enough not to lock the door while I'm around, and is comfortable having me in the same room while she's in the bath. But my brain, being saturated as it is with hormones, takes another view of the situation and wonders of its own accord what she looks like underneath the bubbles.

I see her change her position in the bath, and avert my eyes. "What are you grinning at?"

"I'm merely smiling," I say, as innocently as I can, although I'm pretty sure she doesn't believe it.

Note to self: if I'm going to have sexy thoughts about her, and I want to conceal them, I really should make sure my face doesn't give me away.

"Wanna join me?" she leans against the side of the bath, and smiles seductively at me.

"Yeah okay, why not?" I shrug, trying desperately to keep a straight face, wondering what she'll do next.

"In you get, then," she winks at me, and we're at a stalemate.

Do I go one step further and gain the upper hand or, do I back off and let her think she's won this round? She sees the indecision on my face and it only causes her smile to widen. Oh god I want to, I really really want to, even though I know I shouldn't and she knows it too. But it hasn't stopped her, so why shouldn't I?

"Saved by the bell," I groan inwardly as my phone rings, the display telling me it's Grissom. "Sorry sweet cheeks, I'm needed elsewhere. Sidle."

"Hey, Sara. I thought I should call and let you know, that I'm going to be unavailable for a few hours."

"Oh, do tell," I put my hand over the mouthpiece, to talk to Catherine. "Grissom is going out."

"Just dinner with a friend," he replies, but offers nothing more.

"Which friend?" I ask cheekily, knowing he probably won't tell me anyway, but that won't stop me trying to pry it out of him.

"Dr. Teri Miller," he replies, and I'm so stunned he freely gave me information, that I almost drop the phone.

That explains a few things. In fact, it explains more than a few things.

"So Sara, what are you up to?"

"I'm just waiting for Catherine to get ready, she's in the bath."

"Are you ladies going out tonight, then?"

"No Grissom, we routinely get dressed up on a Friday night to stay in," I laugh. "We're just heading out to see a few of my friends."

"Catherine is a bad influence on you, you're starting to sound like her," he chuckles on the other end. "Well, you both be sure to have a nice night. I'll see you at some point tomorrow."

"Have a nice evening with Dr. Miller."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Catherine calls out to him with a grin, and I nearly drop the phone again, because he knows she's in the bath and he'll wonder how she can hear him.

"Tell her I said that doesn't leave me much option does it?" He says boldly. "Oh and Sara, I'm sorry I disturbed your bath."

I choke as he cuts the call.

"What's the matter?"

I fill her in on the last part of the conversation, and watch as she splutters. "Cheeky son of a bitch!"

"Never mind that! He thinks I'm in the bath with you!" my voice shoots up an octave.

"Well you would have been, if he hadn't called when he did," she replies, laughing at the scowl on my face.

"Now we know what he's been getting up to," I finish my drink with a raised eyebrow. I don't know whether to admire his sneakiness, or be annoyed he dragged us out here just to get his leg over.

"I bet this has something do with Ecklie increasing the lab's budget. Gil has always wanted to employ a full time forensic artist. Not to mention I bet he also brought us all this way, just so he can get laid," she says, weirdly echoing almost my exact thoughts, once again.

"How is it you know everything?" I ask incredulously. "I never hear about half of the stuff that goes on in the lab."

"Always keep an ear to the ground," she advises. "If you know something's coming off, you can be prepared for when the shit hits the fan."

"Is there a school where they teach this sort of thing?" I grin.

"School of life, kiddo," she winks. "Stick with me, and I'll teach you a few things."

My hormones make little revving noises at the prospect. How is it no matter what she says, it can be taken two ways? I have a feeling she does it on purpose. I don't stand a chance in hell, she'll most likely always be two steps ahead of me but I really wouldn't have it any other way.

"Like what to do now that Grissom is developing a sense of humour, you mean?"

"That's one thing I don't have a contingency plan for," she says, looking troubled. "It would seem evolution is taking place unexpectedly. Looks like Mother Nature has also decided that Grissom is going to be a stud muffin."

I guffaw loudly at her words, and have visions of Grissom astride a motorcycle, hair slicked back, surrounded by hordes of women and thinking he's The Fonz.

"Mother Nature picks her times," I roll my eyes.

"You still haven't forgiven him, have you?" she finds that funny for some reason.

"Hell no," I shake my head. "I want revenge, especially now I know where he's been disappearing to all week."

"What did you have in mind?" she smiles eagerly, keen to get him back every bit as much as I am.

"I'll tell you later," I grin, knowing exactly what I'm going to do since I've had all week to plan it. "It will be easier, when you can see what I'm talking about."

"I look forward to it," she smiles, drains her glass, and runs her tongue along her lips, slowly and sensuously.

"But first, you wanted me to join you in the bath, didn't you?" I flash her a wicked grin, determined to prove she isn't the only one who can flirt so outrageously and get away with it.

"Too late, Sara," her eyes drop to my lips, still wearing the sexy smile she has for occasions like this when she's about to play with me. "The bath water is going cold."

"Oh well, these things happen. I guess we'll never know how much fun it might have been," I jump down off the unit casually, pick up my toothbrush and begin cleaning my teeth.

"I'm sorry Grissom called. It would have been a lot of fun to see just how far you'd have gone, to get one over on me," she says, with a chuckle.

"Oh you should know by now, Cath, I'm aiming for going all the way," I reply, and watch with satisfaction as she's rendered completely speechless.

***

Before we've even gotten out of the taxi, Catherine's worked out what kind of bar we're about to go into. The name is a bit of a huge clue. You see a bar anywhere named 'The Pink Truncheon' and it's bound to give it away. I'm quick to assure her it's not at all like the name suggests; it's a very friendly bar and not at all seedy. It may be a cliché but it's a gay cop bar, and I practically lived here before I moved to Vegas. I can't help laughing when she takes another look at the sign, and mouths the words to herself with a chuckle.

"You're gonna love this place, there are some real characters in here," I say as she smiles at me, and of us both, I think I'm far more nervous.

"Come on, I'm desperate for a drink, and I'd love to meet your friends," she grabs hold of my hand, and I pull her toward the door.

The minute I step inside, I feel as if I'm home. Music blares loudly, but not so loudly that you can't hold a conversation, and the bar is crowded as always. If the name hadn't given it away, then the people inside would have. No matter where in the world you are, you can always spot a cop, they have a certain look about them, and even though we're not cops, we're still law enforcement and so we blend in pretty well. I approach the bar and spot a familiar figure, swaying their hips in time to the music. I'd know that wiggle anywhere.

"Hey pretty boy, you just gonna stand there, and wiggle that skinny ass of yours all night?"

Six foot two of sheer muscle, whirls around looking tough. And then all of a sudden his face breaks into a girlish grin, and he comes skipping across the room toward me, with arms outstretched.

"Oh baby girl! When did you get into town?" he throws his arms around my waist, and squeezes the life out of me.

"Steady on John, you're killin' me," I cough, struggling for breath as I hug him. "I flew in on Sunday, I'm on a course with my friend here, and we couldn't escape."

He lets go of me, and looks down at Catherine, grinning as he puts his hands on his hips. "Oh you don't even have to tell me who this is. This gorgeous slice of fried gold, has gotta be Catherine Willows."

She smiles at us both curiously, and reaches out to shake his hand. "I am indeed; it's great to meet you, John."

"Oh it's a joy to meet you too sweetie!" he scoops her up, and gives her the same treatment I just got. He looks at me over the top of her head and continues in a stage whisper. "You're right she's _so _gorgeous, and what a cute little tushy!"

I'm going to kill him.

When he puts her back on the floor, Catherine turns to look at me with the biggest shit eating grin that I've ever seen her wear, and believe me; she's worn some huge shit eating grins in all the time I've known her. I feel my face burn, and I don't know where the hell to put my eyes, not that I suppose it matters because she's already managed to work out that I like her. John looks back and forth between us as he grins, then pulls us both to him and drags us over to the bar.

"I see your mouth gets bigger by the day," I say sarcastically, still smiling at him even though he's dropped me in it.

"Oh it's lovely to see you too, sweetie pie," he coos, with a big toothy grin. "Have you two finally got it together yet?"

My face goes an even brighter red, as I close my eyes and swear softly. I'm definitely going to kill him. That's the last time I tell him any of my deepest, darkest secrets the big ratfink. Having said that, he was the one that broke the news to me about being attracted to her, because I certainly had no idea, and god knows when that particular light-bulb moment would have happened.

"Don't even answer that, he's teasing," I say in the vain hope she buys it, but she's looking far too amused, to even be close to believing it.

I swear to god, he has the biggest mouth on the planet. You could park one of our Tahoe's in there, and he'd still be able to talk around it.

John then leans over the bar in a distinctly unmanly way, and proceeds to screech loudly. "Hey, Marty! Get your butt out here, some of us would like a drink and we were under the impression this was a bar!"

"Alright alright, keep your hair on, you cranky bitch!" Marty appears through a doorway, and immediately grins when he sees me. "Saz!"

He's the complete opposite of John, physically. John is tall and lean, full of muscle, but Marty is short and carries a bit more padding, but he's still in great shape for his age. He walks with a slight limp, having been shot in the line of duty twenty years ago, and has run this place ever since being pensioned off due to his injury.

He enthusiastically pulls me over the bar and proceeds to hug me stupid, while Catherine looks on with amusement. I can't figure out whether she's laughing at me being manhandled through a puddle of beer or if she's laughing at all of my secrets coming out.

"About time you came for a visit, you minx! Who's the lovely girl with you?" Marty asks, and then waves a hand at me. "Don't tell me, that's got to be, just _got_ to be, Catherine Willows."

"Oh he already knows my name, I wonder how that happened," Catherine smirks at me, and reaches across the bar to take hold of Marty's outstretched hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Marty."

"Oh likewise sweetness, we've heard so much about you, so it's fabulous to finally meet you," he says, as I bite my lip and curse again, realising Marty's mouth is almost as big as John's.

"Oh where are my manners?! Drinks are on the house, what will you girls have?" he asks, as he throws a bar towel over his shoulder, and ignores John who is desperately fluttering his eyelashes at him.

"Beer please, gorgeous," John grins jauntily at him, knowing it drives Marty nuts that he flirts with him almost constantly.

"I said girls, not great big hussies who keep throwing themselves at me for free drinks," Marty tells him off, playfully.

"Oh shut up crabby tits! Serve the drinks, I've recently eaten some of your home made bar snacks, and my mouth is beginning to taste like Francis Drake's shorts."

"Would that be from the first or second voyage?" Marty grins, as John none too politely gestures at him. "Catherine, now that mighty mouth Hoskins here has shut his big girly yap, what would you like to drink?"

"A beer would be great, thanks," Catherine chuckles at their antics, and takes a seat, as John graciously pulls a stool out for her.

"SAZ!" a female voice shouts, as I brace myself for another round of embarrassment, as another old friend comes running towards me in a flap. "Oh my god, oh my god!"

They're all coming out of the woodwork tonight and they're all twice as likely to embarrass me as they normally do. I think they thrive on the challenge of getting me to blush in ten words or under. I don't suppose it could get much worse, although I have an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach, that it could indeed get worse as the night goes on.

"Hey Sam," I enthusiastically hug the blonde female, who's currently so excited to see me, that she's threatening to knock me off my feet, if she bounces around much more. "It's great to see you again, how you doing?"

Sam and her wife Lynn are two of my oldest friends. They took me under their wing when I first arrived in Frisco, and looked after me. I was awkward, shy and had almost no confidence, and they brought me out of my shell. I owe a lot to them both, and since they taught me to dance all those years ago, I guess I can blame them for the 'drunken Lambada' incident too.

"I'm doing great thanks babe, what you doing here? Nobody knew you were coming out to visit," she sweeps my hair behind my ears as she rubs her thumbs across my cheekbones, and I get the distinct impression Catherine is just a little peeved with the way she's touching me.

Oh god, I hope so.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm here on a course, with a very good friend of mine from Vegas, this is…"

"Catherine Willows," Sam says, with one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen grace her beautiful face. "Oh honey, it's so great to finally meet you. I'm Sam; I'm an old friend of Sara's."

I watch as Sam pulls her into a warm hug, the look on Catherine's face a cross between a smile and raised eyebrow, which makes me blush even harder. She quite obviously wants to know how on earth all of these people seem to know who she is. I've got a feeling she's about to find out.

"It's great to meet you too, Sam," Catherine says with a genuine smile, relaxing now that she doesn't appear to be after my body. "How did you know who I am?"

Shit, she just had to ask.

"Oh we all know who you are, honey, Sara never stops talking about you," Sam answers enthusiastically.

Shit, she just had to tell her.

"Really?" Catherine shoots a grin in my direction.

"Really, really," Sam nods, laying a hand on her arm. "I knew as soon as I saw the colour of your eyes, it was you. She described them perfectly; in fact, she described you so perfectly that I feel as if I already know you."

I move into Sam's line of vision, and begin making a cutting motion across my throat in order to shut her up. Unfortunately, Catherine catches me doing it, and bites her lip to stop from laughing, as Sam chatters on.

"Not that Sara has ever been so enthusiastic about _anything_ in her life. But as soon as you're mentioned, we're guaranteed a case of worship, the likes of which you've never seen. I was saying to John and Marty just last week, that you guys were perfect for each other but Saz…"

"Is about to stitch your lips together," I roll my eyes, but know that like John, its too late to stop her dropping me any further it, because I'm way past busted. "Don't you guys ever keep anything quiet?"

"Nope, you know me. I'm Ms Honest," Sam chirps, with a bubbly grin.

"That's why all of the judges around here just love Sam. They know she can't keep anything to herself in court, she can't even hold her own water," I put a hand on the bar, lest I end up on my ass, from the sudden influx of blood to my head. "Marty, I'll take a double vodka and tonic, minus the tonic and a little extra vodka, please."

John pushes me down into a seat next to Catherine and drags a stool closer for Sam, before taking a seat himself. Marty serves the drinks, and then leans over the bar, as we all get chatting.

"Where's Lynn, and TJ tonight?" I enquire about Sam's wife and another old friend.

"TJ's on a business trip, she won't be back till tomorrow," Marty informs me with a tight smile, which doesn't surprise me since he and TJ don't exactly get on.

"Lynn's at home, her Mom is staying with us at the moment and she was driving me nuts. So she kicked my ass out of the house, to save me shootin' her," she leans on my shoulder, and laughs.

"So, Catherine, how much do you know about Saz, here?" John grins wickedly in my direction, sensing a chance to settle a few old scores in the process.

"Not very much outside of work," Catherine smiles, as she senses gossip. "I often wish she'd talk more about herself, but she seems quite shy in that respect."

Marty feigns shock and puts a hand on his heart. "Our Saz, shy? Oh my goodness Catherine, you've heard nothing yet."

I take a slug of my vodka, and close my eyes as the liquid burns its way down my throat. It's going to be a long night.

"See, this is precisely why I don't say much of anything if I can help it," I explain to Catherine, "because I can't always stick to the golden rule."

"What's the golden rule?" she asks, with a puzzled grin.

"The golden rule is never to say anything that could be in the least bit incriminating. You have the right to remain silent. But anything you do say, will be misquoted, then used against you," I laugh. "I think you can see how I managed to fuck that rule up, with this lot."

"You told her about the yearbook incident, yet?" John asks with an evil grin, when they've all finished laughing at me.

"Oh good gravy," I look toward the heavens, and hope for divine intervention but none is forthcoming. "I planned on never telling you this, but since John has such a big pie-hole… I went skinny dipping in college, and my bare ass ended up in the yearbook."

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Catherine's eyes go wide, as she giggles infectiously.

"I'm serious, I can prove it to you, because I have the yearbook," I reply, mentally chalking up all of the ways I could quite happily kill these people.

She carries on laughing and I don't see what's quite so funny. Okay, so my friend took a picture of my cheeks, and slipped it into a montage. It didn't seem like a big deal at the time, and people only noticed because she'd jammed my butt in-between two chess club pictures. Then the principle realised too late after it had been printed, and wanted an ass line up. Thankfully, that day I had the dentist or I might just have held my hand up, and admitted it was me.

"Hey! It's not that funny, it's just an ass picture in the yearbook!" I say, but somehow this seems to make her laugh even harder.

"Gotta hand it to the girl," Sam giggles loudly, "there's never a dull moment around her."

"We all make mistakes," I defend myself with a grin, "but it just so happens that 600 copies of mine are dotted around the country."

"Hey that reminds me," Catherine takes a sip of her beer when she's finished laughing, and turns her attention to me. "TJ? As in TJ of Delta Airlines?"

"Oh my god, she told you about that?!" John bounces around in his seat, and looks positively over the moon about it. He's not exactly TJ's biggest fan either, and never misses a chance to bitch about her.

"I sense there's more, do tell," Catherine leans closer to him, ready for gossip.

"You'll love this…" Sam replies, as John prepares to launch into his epic tale of furtive lust and broken hearts, mine specifically.

"Should anyone wish to consult me about my own life, I'll be in the bathroom," I take the opportunity to escape, but they barely notice, busy as they are in discussing my mile high club experience as if they were there.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

By ten o'clock, Catherine has started working her way down the cocktail list with John. She keeps giving him all of her pink umbrellas, and I think she's made a friend for life there. They giggle about something and swap drinks, before taking a mouthful and grimacing at whatever lethal concoction Marty has scoured from the drip trays. I can't help thinking how easily my friends have accepted her, which is certainly a good omen. And I know that from now on, she'll be treated as a member of our little family.

Catherine leans back, and places an arm around me. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine," I pull her into a hug. "Just been a long week, that's all."

"Been one hell of a ride too," she grins at me, like one of the Brady Bunch. "That reminds me. You said earlier on you were gonna tell me what you had planned for Grissom."

"What's it worth?" I wiggle my eyebrows at her.

"It's simple really, you tell me and I let you live," she says, with a sexy smile.

"Must you always be so kinky? I roll my eyes, and reach for my drink.

"Spill, or I'll start getting evil," she threatens, and I figure I've made her wait long enough. It's got absolutely nothing to do with the fact I know she'd follow through on her threat, no way, not at all.

"Every Saturday night, this place holds a drag queen contest," I explain, and her eyes widen like saucers. "I know exactly how to get him here, and I guarantee I can get him all dressed up to enter the competition."

Catherine gapes. "You sure you can pull it off?"

"With your help, I'm sure I can. What do you say, are you in on it?"

"You think I'm gonna pass up the chance of seeing Gil in a dress? Hell no, count me in, Sidle," she rubs her hands together with an evil grin.

"Saz, you want one of these?" Marty breaks into the conversation, as he leans across the bar.

"What is it? It looks like snot," I reply, before taking a sip of my beer. I figured I'd better leave the spirits alone, or I wasn't even going to be able to get up tomorrow.

"That's exactly what it is. Gorilla Snot, or so the cocktail book says," he pushes a glass in my direction and I'm loathe to look at it, much less try it.

"Oh man, that's disgusting. Catherine, take a drink of that and tell me what its like," I shove the glass toward my 'guinea pig' and she happily takes a sip.

"You're such a hero, Sidle," John says sarcastically, with a grin.

Catherine's beautiful blue eyes cross for a minute, before straightening themselves out. "It's got one hell of a kick, I think I've just lost all feeling in my tonsils."

"Saz will help you get the feeling back," John snickers along with Catherine, but only until I playfully smack him upside the head for his comment.

"I'll stick to beer, thanks Marty. I can't face my boss at the best of times, and definitely not on a hangover," I joke, and turn my attention back to my beer bottle, because Catherine is so beautiful when she smiles, and I can't seem to stop looking at her. "Where did Sam go?"

"I'm here," she leans heavily against my back. "I was on the woman, to my phone."

"You mean on the phone to your woman?" I chuckle, knowing that even after all these years, Sam still can't hold her alcohol.

"Yep, and she's pissed at me because…I can't remember why she's pissed at me, but she is."

"You only have to look at Lynn the wrong way, and she'll get pissed at you. You've been together for twenty years for heaven's sake, it would be weird if she didn't get pissed at you," I say, laughing at the fact we all have this exact same conversation with Sam, every time Lynn isn't here.

Sam pouts, and leans on Catherine instead. "You're a woman that knows what it's like to get pissed."

I gape at her. Oh my god the woman has surpassed herself. She has an even bigger mouth than John!

"You could say that," Catherine laughs, and then winks at me. "But I blame, Sara."

"Doesn't mean you're not fond of her right?" Sam hiccups, and looks at her with puppy eyes. "I mean, you wouldn't kick her home when she got ass, just 'cause she's a little tipsy right?"

I burst out laughing. "She means kick my ass when I got home. That sounded way too kinky, Sam."

"Shut up, Sidle. I'm talking to the woman of your dreams here, get in line," she says, thumping me on the shoulder.

Insert heart attack here.

"I might be annoyed, but I think I'd forgive her pretty quickly when she did come home," Catherine grins, and Sam says something, which I don't quite catch and they both end up cackling.

"Did I ever tell you about the time we had a fancy dress party in here, for my birthday one year?" Sam says conspiratorially to Catherine. "And Sara here…"

"Oh look, Marty brought more cocktails," I try and divert Sam, there's no way I want _that_ story told yet, I'm not nearly drunk enough.

"Aww I think she's adorable," Sam smiles drunkenly at me, as she points to Catherine. "You're adorable, you really are. Saz said you were sweet, and she's right, you're sweet."

"You should see her when she's in full postal mode. She wouldn't be sweet even if you coated her in chocolate," I guffaw loudly, at the outraged look on her face.

"Just for that, Sidle, I'm going to make you dance with me," Catherine grabs me around the waist. "Do you guys mind if I borrow her for five minutes?"

Sam shakes her head, as do the boys. "No, you go ahead honey. She's all yours."

The music changes abruptly as Marty tampers with the jukebox, and I see my friends sitting there smiling and giving me the blatant thumbs up. I love each and every one of them dearly, but they wouldn't win any prizes for being subtle. Catherine sees me flashing the finger at them, and laughs as she pulls me closer and wraps her arms around my neck.

"You'll give them something to talk about, holding onto me like this," I laugh, as we sway in time to the music.

"It sounds like they've already had plenty to talk about. John claims you told him I have an ass to die for, and that I'm sex on a stick."

"Shoot me now," I drop my head and try to look at my feet, but I only succeed in looking at Catherine's ample breasts because she's pressed so tightly against me.

"Admiring my rack now too?" her eyes twinkle with amusement, and since she's just about half past piss drunk, I'm hoping she doesn't remember this bit in the morning.

"Will you stop that," I chuckle, finally seeing the humour in the situation. "I did say you had a nice ass, I'll own up to that. But I wasn't looking at your chest."

"Hey, I'm just teasing, but you might need to check you're right," she says, and then moves my hands toward her backside, as she grins playfully.

Heart attack number two in progress.

"Behave yourself, right this minute," I grin, as I move my hands back to her waist, trying to concentrate on the music, and not the way she's dancing against me. "Or I'll kick you out of our room, and make you share with Grissom."

"God no, please don't. The man sleeps with his socks on," she grimaces.

"How do you know that? No wait, I don't want to know," I shake my head, and try to get the horrible picture out of my mind.

"Warrick told me. They shared a room at a convention once," she laughs, and then realises I was thinking something else. "I've never shared a bed with him. Why would I want to? He's not you."

"You're soooo drunk," I chuckle at her boldness, wondering if she'd even say half of this stuff if she were sober.

"I might be drunk, but it's true. You know, Sara, I think you're very special," she pulls me closer, and whispers into my ear. "And I want to know everything about you."

"I'm not that interesting," I smile down at her, as another song begins, accompanied by another round of toothy grins from the escaped mental patients at the bar. This time they get flashed the finger for an extended period of time.

"Oh I think you are," she drawls huskily. "I also think it would be so easy to fall for you."

"I can say exactly the same about you," I shouldn't be saying any of this, but she draws me in, and I can't stop it.

"Really?" she asks breathlessly, the tips of our noses just millimetres apart.

"Yes really, but I don't think we should be talking about it while we're drunk," I reply, as I brush her hair behind her ear. I want to make sure we can say all of this without the alcohol.

"We're not that drunk, but I'll tell you again tomorrow when we're sober," she winks, and kisses me softly on the cheek.

"What was that for?" I grin curiously at her.

"Just for being you," she brushes her thumb across the side of my face, and sighs softly when I lean into her hand.

Another look passes between us and deep down in my heart, I already know I've never felt like this about anyone before. My head tells me I should be terrified, because right now it feels as if I'm racing way ahead of everything. My heart won't listen, and tells me nothing has ever felt so right. I pull her closer and lean down, kissing her softly on the cheek.

"What was that for?" she asks this time, her baby blues staring up at me, with a hint of something I'd describe as desire.

"I wanted to, and it's a bonus that it gave John a case of the vapours," I shake with laughter, as I see him grinning at us, and fanning his face as he dramatically swoons.

Her laughter tinkles almost musically, as he gives her a wave and a wink you could spot a mile off. "Come on, let's grab a drink and a seat. I'm starting to flag here."

"Flagging already? Some lover you are," I joke flirtily, and bravely wrap my arm around her shoulders.

She swats me across the behind, and the temperature goes up several degrees as she whispers into my ear, "I'd tell you just what kind of a lover I am, but I doubt John could handle any more shocks tonight. You'll just have to wait, and find out for yourself."

He's not the only one who can't handle any more shocks. I think I've just had my third heart attack of the night, and the minute she slips her hand into my back jeans pocket and gives my ass a gentle squeeze, I'm just about get started on the fourth.

***

At around 3am, we're creeping past Grissom's room towards ours, which thankfully is at the other end of the corridor. I've never been more grateful than I am right now that we couldn't get adjoining rooms. Suddenly I feel as if I'm fifteen, and I'm creeping back into my bedroom after being out all night, something I never did even when I was a kid.

God knows why we're tiptoeing, because the carpet is thick enough to break an ankle in, and we'd have to be making a hellish noise for him to even notice. That's assuming he's even back, I mean he could be off somewhere fulfilling his new found stud muffin status, not that I even want to think about it, its way too icky.

As we stumble up the hallway, I'm sober enough to be thankful that I've had nowhere near as much to drink, as I did last Saturday. And this time, I'm going to make sure I end up in bed, and not in the bath. Unless of course there's tons of bubbles and Catherine involved, and then nothing could stop me.

"Shhh," Catherine says loud enough to wake the dead. "Don't wake Grissom."

"I wasn't making a noise, and if he hadn't heard us by now, he'll have heard that," I snigger loudly, as she shoots me a death glare.

"He'll be cuddled up with one of his textbooks. He probably kisses the damn things goodnight," she hiccups. "Who kisses you goodnight?"

"Nobody, but if you're volunteering for the job, go right ahead," I chuckle, but quickly stop when I see the look on her face.

"I'd kiss you goodnight every night if you let me," she husks, and tightens her grip on me.

"I'm hardly likely to refuse, am I?" I reply, and quickly steer her up the hallway to our room.

I knew it was a mistake letting her try all those different cocktails. Don't get me wrong, I sunk more than my fair share of drinks but Marty mixes those cocktails to nuclear strength, and they can be more than a bit lethal. Credit where it's due though, she kept up with John and I think he'll be in an even worse state than she will be in the morning. Seeing as how I'm a little bit less drunk than she is, I'll have to keep my wits about me and watch for stray hands, my own included since just lately, my hormones are conspiring to turn me into a pervert.

I attempt to keep her upright, and insert the key card at the same time, which isn't easy as she keeps swaying back and forth. It's made doubly difficult when she decides to run her fingers through my hair, which has my hands shaking even more than they were in the first place.

"Cath? I can't get the door open," I look up at her, and we both end up giggling like teenage girls.

"Some hero you are, you can't even get me into our hotel room," she takes the keycard, and squints as she tries getting it into the slot.

"You can't get in either. Admit it, you can't see without your glasses," I laugh when she unsteadily puts her hands on her hips, and then decides to point a finger at me, as she hiccups again.

"I can too, I'm just a little too drunk to see straight."

"Trust me, seeing straight isn't everything," I say dryly.

"I think I like not seeing straight," she says, and for some reason we both start laughing again.

She sways a little more than she should to one side and I take hold of her, as she throws her arms around my shoulders. Our eyes meet and I could easily kiss her here and now, but I really don't want to look back at our first kiss, and know it was in a hotel hallway. Besides, I need the bathroom and if I stand out here much longer, she'll need water wings.

"Gimme the keycard, let me try again. I really gotta pee," now I'm hiccupping, and trying to get the card in the slot. "Voila!"

I push the door open, and then stand there with a puzzled expression when it swings shut again. I look at her, and she looks at me, and then we both look back at the door.

"Nice one, Sidle. We're still standing in the hallway," Catherine bursts out laughing again, thinking this is hugely funny

"Think you can do any better? Go ahead and try, smarty pants," I pout, as she begins jabbing at the card slot again.

The door swings open and I shoot past her like a senior citizen at a Walmart sale, leaving her to fend for herself as the state of emergency in my bladder reaches critical levels. When I emerge five minutes later, her clothes are scattered on the floor and she's trying to put both legs through one leg of her sleep-shorts.

"How did that get up there?" I ask with a grin, as I retrieve her bra from the light fitting.

"I don't know," she shrugs with a laugh. "They do say consumption of alcohol, may leave you wondering what the hell happened to your bra."

"I think they're referring to somebody else taking it off you though," I grin, and hand it back to her when she's finally got her shorts on properly.

"Well I had to, because you were busy," she grins, and climbs into bed.

Five minutes later, we're both snuggled up, the alcohol making us both sleepy. I can't believe how much of a wonderful time I had tonight. I also can't believe what's happening between us. I'm amazed it's only been a week since we thought we hated each other.

"You do realise we've been friends for an entire week now, and we haven't fought once," I say with a smile, thinking Saturday morning didn't really count, since it was a heart to heart.

"Wow, that's a record for us," she grins up at me. "Aww honey, our first anniversary."

"Such a romantic." I nudge her in the ribs as we giggle.

"Sara?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you had nobody to kiss you goodnight, so…" she leans closer to me, making eye contact and several heartbeats later, softly kisses me on the lips.

Electricity flows through me from the simple touch of her lips, and her warmth seeps into my heart and holds it captive. It's soft, its sweet and it's the most erotic thing I've ever experienced. I feel as if I've waited my entire life for this moment, and it's perfect. Time seems to stand still, and as we look at each other, an entire conversation flows between us without words. With another smile, she leans down again, and softly kisses me for a second time.

"Goodnight, Saz."

"Goodnight, Cath," I hold my arms open to her, and as she snuggles down, I feel her smiling against my neck.

It isn't long before she falls asleep in my arms, the imprint of her kiss still tingling on my lips, as a smile I can't fight takes up what feels like permanent residence on my face. I feel as if I'm standing on the edge of something new and faintly scary, but this time I'm not going to hold back. I'm going to jump with eye wide open, and trust that somehow, she and I will find our way, along whichever path fate has already chosen for us. I snuggle further down against her, waiting until she wraps her arms tighter around me, and then I join her in dreamland.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

I become vaguely aware of a noise somewhere in the room, and can't quite pinpoint what it is. I'm never the brightest button in the drawer when I first wake up, and I suppose drinking enough to sink a small ship the night before didn't help. My mouth feels as if it's been used for nefarious purposes beyond my control. What nefarious purposes you wonder? I don't know but it tastes suspiciously like something nasty rubbed its butt in my face.

Okay, back to pinpointing this noise thing. It's not Catherine, 'cause that funny sort of snuffling noise she's making in her sleep is normal, or at least it is for a Hippopotamus anyway. Ouch, I just felt her elbow connect with my stomach so yep; she's definitely asleep and dreaming. What the hell she's dreaming about I don't know, but I suspect she thinks she's Chuck Norris somewhere along the line.

Ow shit. That last one was in the teeth, and if she doesn't keep her arms still, I'm going to see how far it's physically possible to tuck them up her ass. But that last stray karate chop seems to have woken me up properly, and I wish it hadn't because the unpleasant but familiar sensation of the room spinning starts. If I'd wanted the room to move that way, I'd have started dating a spin dryer.

That noise is definitely the phone, and now I've established that, the next step should really be to answer it. If only to get the asshole on the other end, to shut the hell up. I roll over and click the lamp on. Ow holy shit! Who replaced the light bulbs with uranium rods? Between Catherine 'Bruce Lee' Willows and everything else that's conspiring to harm me, I'll be lucky to make it out of bed alive.

I lean over 'Sleeping Ninja' and pick up the phone. "Sidle."

"Good morning, Sara."

"Grissom," I growl, and wish I had the capability of reaching down the phone line to slap his ears for him. "It isn't morning yet, it isn't even light outside. Unless this is an emergency, I'm going to wire your nipples to the electrical supply."

"You've just woken up haven't you?" he says conversationally. "I should have known, you're always cranky first thing."

"Let's just pretend I don't want to kill you, and tell me what you need."

"I'm planning the day ahead," he says, seemingly unfazed that he's just woken me up before a decent hour, because its 5am and that doesn't constitute decent. "I'm looking at booking us in for some activities, today."

"Wait a minute please," I put the phone down on the bedside table, and attempt to retrieve my head from under Catherine's arms, since she's decided it would be a great idea to cut my oxygen off with her chest. "Willows! Can't breathe here!"

"Unh?" she opens her eyes and looks up at me, with an annoyed expression. "What the hell are you doing?"

Oh that's just great, the same woman who kissed me so sweetly just hours before, now looks as if she wants me dead.

"I'm on the phone, you keep hugging me and I can't talk when your boobs are doing an effective job of silencing me," I pick the receiver up again.

"Sorry," Catherine says sarcastically, and rolls her eyes with a huff. "Somehow didn't think you'd complain."

I gape at her, my mouth hanging open as I grip the phone tightly against my ear. I hear a noise on the other end that sounds suspiciously like a tiny gasp of laughter, so Grissom probably heard that, and I'm thinking of slotting her big mouth somewhere in-between John's and Sam's.

"Grissom, please tell me you're joking about this activity stuff, because if you're not, I'd seriously contemplate the inevitability of having your ass kicked off the Golden Gate Bridge, and I'll deny your request for water wings," I say, as I feel Catherine's body shaking with silent laughter beneath me.

"I'm not joking. I thought we could start with a paintball session at nine, then break for lunch and maybe try out a few of the firearms exercises this afternoon."

"I meant it when I said I wasn't careening around in an orange vest collecting bruises on various bits of my anatomy, forget it," I pull a threatening face, and realise he can't see me, as Catherine's amusement continues and jiggles various bits of her body against mine.

"Oh come on, it will be fun. I'm going to join in, and Terri is coming with us. What does Catherine say?"

Grissom and fun? That's still a weird concept. Too many things are weird lately, he's becoming human and Catherine is apparently after my body. The only thing that hasn't changed is my level of insanity; I'm just as nuts as I was last week.

"She'll probably say she wants your nuts on a skewer, she's looking murderous you know," that's a little white lie; it was my fault she was looking murderous in the first place.

"Ask her," he urges.

"Catherine, Grissom wants to know if you fancy running around for a few hours while firing paintballs at each other, before spending the afternoon covered in as much gunshot residue as you can handle," I look down at her, only to find she's drifted off again, and I nudge her awake.

"What?!" she cracks an eye open.

"Focus for god sake," I roll my eyes, and I mentally take back my earlier statement about being no more nuts this week, than I was last week, because I'm quickly ratcheting up new levels of insanity here.

I can't help wondering what I'd done in a former life that was so wrong, that I got put down here on earth with this bunch of lunatics at 5am in the morning when I'm yet again suffering from a hangover.

"What was the question?" she frowns.

"Oh for fu…Do you speaka da any English?" I ask as she narrows her eyes at me. "Grissom wants to know if you want to go outside, and play paintball with him."

"Hell no, do I look stupid?" she grinds her pelvis against me, and winks seductively.

How can she be asleep one minute, and be attempting to give me friction burns the next?

"She says hell no, does that help?" my tone slightly harsher than I meant it to be.

"It's non-negotiable," he says flatly.

"Listen Grissom, I didn't stumble in until 3am this morning, its now barely two hours later and I feel like death warmed up. Catherine looks even worse than I feel," I get a dig in the ribs for my trouble. "And the last thing I want to do at this moment in time is be anywhere near you guys with a loaded gun, because I might just be tempted to use it."

"But I told Terri we'd do something," he whines, and now I understand his dilemma.

"Griss, let me be honest with you here, you don't need Cath and I tagging along. Dr Miller would probably appreciate spending time alone with you. I know you're probably kinda nervous but you need to pick an activity you'll both enjoy. How about a museum?"

Oh god, I can't believe I'm giving him relationship advice, when every relationship I've ever had bombed more times than the United States Army.

"Well, I guess," he sounds like he's warming up to the idea. "I mean, she is leaving this afternoon."

"There you go then, go do something romantic for once in your life. Surprise her; she'll be glad of it."

"Okay," he chirps on the other end. "I'll call her back and tell her there's been a change of plan."

I groan into Catherine's shoulder, I can't believe he woke the poor woman up already and threatened to take her on the least romantic day out ever, he's hopeless. Had it been me, I'd have kicked his ass back to Vegas for even thinking about it. I don't know how he ever got this far in life, with a full set of teeth intact.

"Good, I guarantee she'll be pleased," a thought occurs to me, which might just make my task even easier. "Hey, if Dr Miller is going home this afternoon, that means you're free tonight, right?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"Catherine and I would like the pleasure of your company tonight."

"I'm not sure, it doesn't sound like my sort of thing," he starts complaining, before he even knows where he's going or what he's doing.

"Oh come on, don't be such a stick in the mud, it will be fun," I send a silent apology to the heavens for another little white lie, unless of course there's something we don't know about him, in which case he'll be over the moon to find himself in a dress tonight.

"When you put it like that, I'd be glad to accept."

"Good, now get off the line, I need to sleep," I chuckle. "Have a nice day, and say hello to Dr Miller for us."

"I certainly will. Bye Sara."

I put the phone down and collapse back onto the bed. Just as I'm about to drift into a coma, I feel Catherine's hand making progress up my arm and across the top of my shoulder. I'm pretty sure this means she's awake now, which is typical when my body wants to be unconscious for the next six hours. Believe me, I'm torn. Flirt with Catherine, or sleep? It's a toughie.

"Sidle!"

"What?" my head shoots up of its own accord as I blink wearily at her.

"I was being nice here," she grins at me, with a slight wiggle of her eyebrows.

"No, you were being a pervert there. Touching parts of my fantastic body you didn't have a search warrant for. That's a serious offence," I say giggling, as she shoots me a sultry look.

"And you're telling me you didn't have an ulterior motive for diverting Grissom?"

"Yeah I did, so I could sleep. I need my sleep, or I end up being a grumpy son of a bitch all day."

"That's normal for you," she huffs playfully. "I preferred you earlier on in the week when you woke up gay."

"I didn't wake up gay, I've always been gay. How can you wake up gay?"

"I don't know, you tell me, you wake up gay every morning," she chuckles and then squeals loudly when I begin tickling her.

"STOP! I'm extremely ticklish, you little psycho!" she turns her back on me, "I'm not talking to you now."

"If I hold you again, will you talk to me?" I try the route of bargaining, and slide my hand across her stomach only to earn a slap on the hand.

"Nope."

"Mad passionate sex?" a girl can only hope the answer will be yes.

"Wouldn't touch you even with gloves on," she shakes her head.

"Kiss?"

"Not talking to you. So I'm hardly going to kiss you."

"Well watch tv then, and let me sleep," I might as well sleep, if she won't take advantage of me.

"Where's the remote?"

"Up your ass, second shelf."

She grins at me, as I hand her the remote. "Thank you; you big pain in the ass."

"Do I get a cuddle?" I ask, sticking my bottom lip out for effect. "You can't stay mad with me forever, I'm adorable."

"I'll let you cuddle with me while I watch tv," she says, taking hold of my hand, and placing it on her stomach again. "Does that suit you?"

"Perfectly," I wait until she gets comfortable, before snuggling into her back. "What do you want to do today?"

I wait for an answer, and there's complete silence. I wonder for a moment if I've slipped into some sort of foreign language, that I didn't realise I could even speak.

"Cath?"

A noise that would make a courting warthog proud, screeches past my eardrums, shakes the plaster loose, and could have potentially woken up at least half of the occupants on this floor. Well she snores, and she kept that damn quiet for the last week. What else am I going to discover about her I wonder? Will she eat potato chips in bed? Drop her underwear on the bathroom floor where it will bite me? Leave the bath looking like a Wookie shaved its legs in there?

Oh well if she can't have stay awake longer than five minutes to have a conversation, she better hadn't think I'm staying awake just on the off-chance, because I'm not. The only thing I'm going to do is close my eyes, and sleep. Or at least I would if she wasn't making a noise akin to a chainsaw in a blender. How is it you can be fairly certain you're falling for a woman one minute, and end up wanting to clamp your hands over her face until she shuts up the next? Just as I'm about to shake her awake and tell her to shut the snoring up, she snorts loudly and all is finally quiet. I say a silent thank you, and close my eyes again with a soppy smile.

She might snore, but I wouldn't change her for the world.

***

I busily spent the next seven hours in my self induced coma until I rose leisurely around noon, and decided I was so hungry I could eat a Nun's ass through the convent railing. After spending what seemed a miraculously short amount of time waiting for Catherine to get ready, I took her out to lunch, and we happily chatted away on a number of different topics, and it's been nice just spending time with her, with nobody else making any demands on either of us. I can remember when she and I barely spoke, even about work unless we really had to, and now we always seem to be discussing something, or laughing and joking about various things. It's been the best day out I've had in a long time, and I'm glad we're making progress in building a solid friendship, everything seems to be slotting into place at last.

I also like the way she's held my hand all day, I've never had somebody want to be so physically close to me all the time that to go without holding hands for five minutes seems far too long apart. I can honestly say I've never felt like that either, I'd never really been comfortable with close contact before, but now I positively welcome it. When people assumed we were a couple, she was happy to let them think it, and didn't seem in the least bit uncomfortable. So that's a good sign, at least I know she isn't going to be the kind of person who's only comfortable with their feelings behind closed doors. I didn't peg her for being like that anyway, she strikes me as a very affectionate person, but at least now I know and I don't have to worry about it.

I also like the way she hasn't mentioned last night, and our first kiss. There's been no need, we've let each other know in lots of other little ways that we're happy with the situation, and no conversation was needed. Each one of my partners has either been the silent type, or the type that wants to discuss every issue completely until it takes the meaning out of it. With Catherine, there's a healthy balance I've never experienced before, and more importantly, she thinks my tendency to go nuts once in a while is cute.

"Where are you taking me now?" Catherine stretches in the passenger seat of our hire car, and turns to smile at me.

"Alcatraz," I reply without missing a beat. "We're not going on a tour or anything; I'm just going to kick you off of the ferry on the way past."

She narrows her eyes as I snicker with laughter. "You're lucky you're driving, Sara."

"Ohh what would you do to me?"

"Quite a few things, that would leave you feeling medical attention was necessary," she threatens playfully.

"Oh baby, you're gettin' me hot," I chuckle as I flip my turn signal on.

"Not half as hot as I'd like to get you, believe me," she says, flashing me an outrageously seductive smile as my heart speeds up in response.

Oh if only.

I decided on doing something that everyone else would consider a cliché. I'm going to take her for a walk along the beach at sunset. This is the first time I've ever wanted to share it with someone; it's also the first time I've been with anyone who would appreciate it. I used to spend a lot of time by the ocean when I lived out here. The view from Baker Beach was stunning, and it made you appreciate just how vast the golden gate was, even from that distance. I also liked the peace it afforded me, because I'd had just as many problems with cases here as I do in Vegas.

"Wow, this is beautiful," Catherine smiles as we climb out of the car.

"I used to come here all the time. This used to do for me, what sitting on a rock in Vegas does now."

"I can see why."

Just a few feet away, the ocean races in at the shore and the waves crash over the sand with a roaring sound. We automatically join hands as we take a slow walk, both apparently lost in our own thoughts as a comfortable silence settles over us.

When I used to come here, I'd spend hours dreaming about the kind of life I wanted, a happy home with a woman who loved me for who I am. Whenever you have that kind of dream, the person you're with always seems to look blurry. You know everything about them, can remember what their touch feels like, their scent and so on, as your mind fills in all the little blanks about a person you haven't met yet, but you can never seen their face clearly. I feel the breath leave my body, when the old thoughts come rushing back, and the woman in my dreams, suddenly has Catherine's face. People often say that reality never matches a dream, and I agree, since from where I'm standing, no dream could ever make me feel as alive as I do right now being with Catherine. I can hardly believe all of this is happening, and I wish with all of my heart that my dream could come true at last. And somewhere deep down, a feeling tells me that it's going to be.

"Lost in your own little world," Catherine speaks softly, her voice barely registering over the noise of water rushing in at the shore, and I'm unsure whether she had specifically meant for me to hear.

"Sorry," I smile brightly at her. "I was just thinking about the times I used to sit here, and the things I used to dream about."

"Nice things?" she asks, pulling me to her and rubbing her thumb across my cheek gently.

"Beautiful things," I say with a smile, and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Want to share?"

"I used to sit here, and dream about what it would be like to have somebody special to share my life with, a woman who loves me for me," I say honestly, feeling my heart skip a beat when she smiles at this.

"One day," she leans closer and places a kiss on my cheek, before placing her lips against my ear, "you'll have a woman that loves you more than anything. Just you wait and see."

I'm suddenly breathless again, does she mean what I think she means? I think she does, but then again the wording is a little sketchy. On one hand I could take it that she'll end up falling for me, on the other she could be telling me it isn't going to be her. Oh god, what do I do now. Shouldn't there be a manual for this? 'How not to screw things up, when you're completely crap at reading the signs' Catchy title eh? It might just take off.

"I hope she's prepared to be loved back one day, she could end up being my entire world," I say.

"I don't think she could ask for any more than that," she replies.

Still a little vague, should I push it further I wonder?

"She already means a lot to me. I wonder if she knows."

"She knows," Catherine's grin could eclipse the sun. "She feels the same as you do."

Now it's my turn to grin like an idiot, thank god we're on the same page. I like her, she likes me and we both realise it could turn into something more. Now I feel better, and can finally begin to relax. I take hold of her hand, and we start walking again as if we haven't got a care in the world.

"What were you thinking about?" I'm curious, Catherine seems to think a lot, but doesn't always elaborate on what it is she's mulling over so carefully.

"Exactly the same thing you were, apparently," her eyes catch mine, and she smiles. "You weren't the only one to have those kinds of thoughts. But now I know they're capable of being so much more than dreams."

"Did you always dream about me?" I ask with amazement, and then shake my head with a smile. "Don't answer that just yet, it's too quick. Let me wonder for a while."

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, while you're keeping me talking," she says suddenly with a chuckle.

"What did I do now?" I ask, wondering if I look guilty in some way.

She points ahead of us, with a mischievous grin. "The north end of the beach is a well known nudist spot. I'm not from around here, but even I know that. And if you think I'm stripping off, forget it."

"Damn, foiled already," I click my fingers, with mock disappointment. "It wouldn't take much to get you naked, though."

"You sound sure of yourself," the husky laugh is back, and we come to a halt as I pull her into my arms again.

"I'm not without skills," I wink.

"It really is beautiful here," she says breathily, as the wind whips her hair into a frenzy, which shimmers in the fading sunlight like a golden halo. "But not as beautiful as you, Sara."

My heartbeat races when she leans further into me, as she pulls me close, her head resting on my shoulder, and both of us looking out to sea as the cool salty breeze washes over us. I don't quite know what to say, she's done what she so often does, and that is to take my breath away. How is it she can say something simple and completely sweep me off my feet? It's probably the depth of emotion behind her words, something which I've never really experienced before. She's in complete contrast to my last partner, who only got emotional when she ran out of Twinkies during that delightful time of the month that every woman has.

"So, you're enjoying your first time in Frisco?" I ask, when she presses the cool skin of her forehead against my raging pulse.

"Absolutely, like I said, the scenery is stunning and the company exhilarating."

"Okay Willows, that's code for 'I'm after something' isn't it?" I joke, and feel her laughter vibrate against me.

"You've got a suspicious mind, Sidle. So just for that, the first round of drinks is on you, tonight."

"Catherine Willows, I'm shocked. You could have made a move on me, and you choose alcohol instead?"

"I kissed you twice last night, it's your turn to take the initiative," A perfectly shaped eyebrow is raised at me, as her eyes visibly become a darker blue.

"Oh, I see," I say, not being able to keep my smile under control. "We're on a turn for turn basis huh?"

"Mmhmm," she nods. "It would seem that way."

"I better take my turn then, because I'd never miss a chance to kiss such a stunningly beautiful woman," my heart is back to racing, and my knees go weak as she presses the full length of her body against me, and tightens her grip on the back of my neck.

Less than a heartbeat later, I feel her soft pliant lips beneath my own and get the sensation that I'm flying. I close my eyes, and savour the sensations that flow through me like the tide running in at the beach, just several feet away. It's even better than I remembered, and neither of us seem to be a in a rush to break apart, although we haven't deepened the kiss at all. I feel her smiling against my lips; and a second or two later when we pull apart, she rests her forehead against mine, both of us still grinning stupidly at each other.

"You won't be able to forget kissing me now you're sober," I tease, as I hold her tightly.

"I may have been a little drunk last night, but kissing you was something I'll remember forever," she says, still mirroring the smile on my face.

"Why don't I give you something else to remember then?" I brush my lips across hers again; the kiss is a tiny bit less chaste than the last one.

She groans in the back of her throat, as I adjust the angle of my head slightly, rubbing my lips against her just enough to create the tiniest bit of friction. A shiver shoots through my body like a lightning bolt, as the tension flows once again, just like it has been all week.

"Don't say I never do anything for you," I chuckle, hoping it will ease the ache in my body.

"If you done that to me a week ago, you'd have swallowed your tongue," she says, her face flushed, her smile still playing across her lips.

"And taken my teeth home in a bag," I agree, and then a thought pops into my head, and I'm not sure if I should ask or not, but I'm going to. "Just say I had done that though, what would you have done?"

"Been rendered speechless at first I think," she says, thoughtfully. "Probably would have been pissed off for a while, and then it's possible I might have come to my senses."

"Yeah right," I scoff. "You'd have held a grudge forever, and prayed for me to grow new teeth every night just so you'd be able to knock them out again the very next day."

"You know me so well," she says, with a shake of her head as she laughs.

"Do I detect your phone ringing?" I ask when I feel her pocket vibrating against me, "or did you really pack a little something extra with batteries?"

"How many women do you know that take a vibrator for a walk on the beach?" she asks, with a snort of laughter as she fishes in her pocket for her phone.

"This is Frisco, you'd be surprised," I wiggle my eyebrows at her as she answers her phone.

"Nancy?" she screws her eyes up, as she concentrates on the call. "You're gonna have to speak up honey, I can't hear you…Nance? She's gone."

"Signal might not be all that great around here. How about we head back to the hotel and you can call her?"

"No more kisses then?" she teases, as we head back to the car.

"That would depend on your performance this evening. If you play your part well, it could earn you a kiss or two," I say with an evil grin, remembering that in just a few short hours, we were about to dupe Grissom into drag.

"Oh I'm always good," she husks. "Just wait till you see how good I really am."

Somehow though, I know I wouldn't need to be convinced, I can already testify to how good she is, and so can my hormones.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Things aren't going to plan, and I'm beginning to get the feeling I couldn't organise a sneeze in a snot factory. The plan was simple and came in three parts: one, get Grissom just a little bit drunk. Two, subtly drop into the conversation the fact that there's a drag queen contest tonight. And three, slip in a blatant lie about it being for charity. Did we do all of the above? Yes. Did it work? Did it fudgery.

Getting him drunk has been no problem; he's been slurping away on his drinks like an alcoholic granny at communion. Actually getting him to agree to dress up is another thing, and we've been trying for the last hour while his drinks have been getting steadily stronger, but still he refuses.

"Don't be such a misery guts, Gil," Catherine tries again, "it is for charity after all."

"No, I'd never live it down. Besides, I don't have the buns or the bone structure," he says as John reaches for the cocktail menu.

"Oh we need to get you another drink, Gilbert honey," he grins at Grissom flirtily, and shows him the menu.

"He's going to be too drunk to stand, never mind anything else," Catherine leans closer and discretely runs her fingertips down my arm, as we both watch Grissom uncharacteristically giggling along with John.

"I think he already could be," I say frowning. "Can't count on John's help, he's too busy trying to get Grissom to put out."

She takes hold of my hand, as my skin tingles pleasantly against hers. "The thought of Grissom putting out for anyone, is too creepy for words."

"Not half as creepy as he's gonna feel, if he wakes up next to John in the morning."

"You wouldn't do that to him, would you?" She looks at me with a lopsided grin, not quite being able to work out whether I'm that evil or not.

"I would," I laugh, "And I might just have to if we can't get him into a dress."

"Catherine, Saz you guys want another drink?" John asks, but doesn't wait for an answer as he waves at Marty in an attempt to get served.

"Why do they call you Saz?" Grissom breaks into the conversation, with a puzzled frown.

"John once had his jaw broken in the line of duty, and it was the only word he could semi-pronounce without dribbling. In fact, its still the only word he can pronounce without dribbling," I burst out laughing at the outraged look on John's face.

"One of these days Sidle, my police issue boots are going to find a home up your chocolate whizzway. MARTY!" he screeches, making Grissom jump out of his skin.

"You're gonna have to wait if you want a drink Hoskins, failing that, get your flirty ass round here and get it yourself," Marty says grumpily, clearly rushed off of his feet.

"Oh my sweet dear love muscle," John claps a hand to his heart. "You're finally jealous of me chatting up the boys."

"When will you get it through your strange little head, that I don't find you in the least bit attractive," Marty grins, as he banters along and serves people at the same time.

"You're not exactly prime meat yourself Marty," he huffs and hitches up an imaginary bosom. "You're cranky, you refuse to wax your shoulders, and you've got more chins than a Chinese phone book, but there's just something about ya baby."

"You're still not my type, not even a sniper would take you out," he quips, as he fills a pitcher with beer.

"Ooooh dearie!" John puts his hands on his hips, and gets ready for his next put down. "If I'm being really honest, you've got a face on you that would drive rats from a barn."

"That right huh? Hasn't done much to drive you away," Marty walks toward us, and slides our drinks across the bar. "And at least my face doesn't look like an untidy bag of chisels."

"Are you two at it again? I oughta arrest your asses," I hear Lynn shout over the noise, as John hands her a beer. "Thanks babe, my mouth is drier than a camel's butt in a sandstorm after all that dancing."

"About time you two showed up, we still can't get him to agree to dress up," I say wearily, I'm fast running out of ideas.

"Quit your panickin' woman," Lynn says in her thick New York accent, as she grins. "We'll call the heavy mob in; Peaches will work it out for ya."

Damn, why didn't I think of that?

"Oh by the way, TJ is here and she's done nothing but look at you for the last fifteen minutes," Sam replies, leaning over me to grab her drink from John.

Well, that can't be good. I do usually describe TJ as a friend, basically only because we have a lot of history due to the fact we were lovers at one point. But if I'm honest, I'd rather nail a steak to my ass and go swimming with crocodiles, than actually have to endure the woman's company for more than a few minutes at a time.

"That could be my fault," John bites down on his finger and looks at me apologetically. "I accidentally let it slip that you're in town to Sandra who works in dispatch, you know who I mean? Well she often has lunch with Mary from traffic, who probably told Laura because they've got kids in the same playgroup, who will have definitely told Fran because she's dating Laura's brother Dave, and she uses the same gym as TJ."

I'm having a hard time keeping up with him. "Don't you ever take a breath?"

"I've learnt to breathe through my ears, sweetness," he winks at me.

"Too much information," I say, swatting him across the hip, just in case he decides to elaborate any further.

"Tell you what else is his fault," Lynn raises an eyebrow at him, "she'd have gone home by now, only the girl she tried picking up got cold feet, when John accidentally explained that TJ is a serial shagger."

I howl with laughter and glance over at him, as he tries to look innocent. "Oh my god, you didn't?"

"I did," he says, as his halo finally slips and he grins wickedly.

"He also told her that TJ had so many notches on her bedpost that over the years, that she'd carved the Venus De Milo three times over," Sam snickers.

"Now you know why I call her TJ Hooker," Lynn drapes an arm over both Catherine and I, as we giggle.

Lynn and Catherine have been getting along like a house on fire, and I couldn't be happier about that, because over the years I've come to look upon Lynn as a mother figure. Granted, she's not all that much older than I am, but when you're an eighteen year old kid, anybody five minutes older than you seems really old. Sam, for her part, took on the big sister role, always the one to laugh along with me and be in as much trouble as I was. But Lynn was the strict one, setting me right and looking after me, making sure she kept me on the straight and narrow until I was capable of looking after myself. I needed them both back then and sometimes I still do, and I realise being here, how much I miss them when I'm in Vegas. But as much as I love them, I couldn't leave Catherine behind, even when I thought she couldn't stand me.

I've come to notice over time, especially these last few days, that Lynn and Catherine are both quite similar in lots of ways. I can never get away with anything when either of them is around, that's for sure. In fact, they've already swapped notes and shared tips on how to get me to behave, as they discussed my tendency to get up to mischief. A lot of nodding, and sympathetic looks have passed between the two of them, as they bonded over my faults. It doesn't bode well.

"I'm sensing you guys don't like TJ much," Catherine says dryly, because she already has a good idea of what she's like.

"She's a class A1 bitch. I've had it in for her ever since she broke Saz's heart," John replies, shooting a distasteful look in TJ's direction.

Marty leans over the bar and motions for us to come closer. "Your boss given in, yet?"

"No," Catherine sighs. "We've tried everything, even tried tugging on his heart strings with the charity line but he won't budge."

Time to call in Peaches I think. I really didn't want to do this, I was hoping he'd give in gracefully, but the time for force has arrived.

"Peaches? Can you spare me a minute please, sweetheart?" I ask, as a tall lean woman sashays in my direction.

Peaches or Pete as she's known when she's not in drag, is easily six and a half feet tall in heels, and is just about the most convincing drag queen I've ever met. Quite honestly, she's stunning and she turns heads wherever she goes. At this particular moment, she's got Catherine's full and undivided attention.

"What's up honey child?" she kisses me on both cheeks, by way of greeting.

"Peaches, we've got a slight problem. My friend Gilbert here would love to take part in tonight's contest, but he hasn't brought any costumes with him. Do you think you could help us out?"

"Oh absolutely," she nods vigorously. "Gilbert looks like she could be a real diva."

As Peaches takes hold of Grissom's hand, and begins dragging him away, he looks back as us desperately to save him. I know neither of us is going to, and it serves him right, because he could have made things easier on himself and agreed to it in the first place. It really is his own fault anyway, because anybody else with an ounce of sense would have made a break for the door. But not Grissom, he'll stick around, and be tortured just to be polite.

"Wow, she was hot," Catherine is almost drooling.

"Would you quit lusting? I'm standing right here you know," I chuckle.

"Sorry Sara, but you gotta admit he makes a beautiful woman," she grins up at me. "Having said that, you've got something he doesn't have."

"Sweetheart, I've got quite a few things he doesn't have, and if you don't know the difference, you should go back to school and take basic biology."

"You know what I mean," she tuts, and digs her fingers into my side playfully. "You wouldn't happen to be a little jealous would you?"

"I'm not, but I think TJ is. She's been shooting daggers at you for the last ten minutes."

"Wonder why?" she laughs.

"Could be because she thinks you're my girlfriend."

"I am, we're dating, remember," she slides an arm around me, whilst tracing my lips with her fingertips.

"We're dating are we?" I try not smile, but it escapes anyway and if I carry on smiling the way I am, somebody is going to come along and cram me into a straight-jacket, no questions asked.

"Technically, perhaps, maybe," she says, her eyes flashing with amusement.

"In that case, I technically ought to tell you to knock off drooling over Peaches, since it could technically, perhaps, maybe annoy me."

The smile on her face turns slightly predatory, as my stomach jumps up and down as if it's on a rollercoaster ride. She motions for me to come closer as she hooks a finger under my chin. She brushes her lips across mine gently, as her hands subtly caress my sides. Things appear to be moving along rapidly today, but I'm not worried. I'm pretty sure there'd be warning signs trying to get my attention by kicking me in the teeth, if anything was wrong.

"How was that by way of an apology?" she asks huskily, her eyes gravitating toward my lips.

My only answer is to pull her to me again, the pressure of the kiss just enough to have an effect on us both. "So nice, I had to kiss you twice."

"Get a room you two," Lynn nudges us both, with a mock disgusted look.

"Don't listen to her, she's jealous 'cause her mom's in the house and she isn't getting any," Sam guffaws, as Lynn looks just about ready to get pissed at her.

"Well I wouldn't have to miss gettin' any if somebody kept their big yap shut!" she brushes her dark fringe out of her eyes. "But no, you're not happy unless you're wakin' up the neighbours."

"You know you like it that way," Sam says seductively and leans into her wife, as they begin smooching.

"God, doesn't it make you sick?" I say to Catherine, who's taken advantage of the fact Grissom isn't here and is now sitting on my lap.

"I think it's sweet," she begins playing with my hair. "You know, that could be us in twenty years time."

"I doubt it. In twenty years time you'll need hip replacements, if you keep using your legs the way you do," I laugh as she jokingly tightens her grip around my neck.

But the fact she's even re-iterated we could have a future, is enough to make me smile like an idiot, and she knows it.

***

I just about fall off my chair when Grissom reappears a mere forty minutes after we last saw him, dragged up to the nines. He's wearing a long dark wig, that's curled just enough to gently frame his face, and his makeup really is the wrong side of subtle. It's when I look down at his legs that I almost really do keel over from laughing; he's wearing the biggest pair of thigh length black PVC boots that I've ever seen. They're topped off by a black mini dress, and a pink feather boa, jauntily draped across his shoulders. He staggers towards us, meddling with the back of his dress, and blinking heavily as his false eyelashes obscure his vision.

"Catherine Willows, Sara Sidle, the minute we get back to Vegas, you're both being demoted to CSI Level One," he bitches. "Look at what they did to me. I look like a tart."

"You've been acting like one all week, it suits you," Catherine snickers.

"Don't think I don't know what you've been up to all night," He looks at us sternly. "This is payback for me making the two of you settle your differences isn't it?"

"Yep," I nod.

"Oh and its payback for dragging us out here, so you could woo Dr Miller too," Catherine adds helpfully. "Not to mention ditching us last Monday on our trip to the great outdoors."

"And I guess you could say we're also getting you back, for pairing us together at work permanently," I add, "although I'm not gonna complain any further on that particular point."

He looks back and forth between us with a beady eye, as we grin back cheekily. I'd hazard a guess that at this point, we're mostly forgiven already. Although that might not last long, when Marty tells him what his next task is.

"I look like a cheap floozy," he complains, but can't help smiling when he realises he's beaten.

"Honey, honey," Peaches pats him on the shoulder. "You look liberated is what you look. Its perfect on you, it screams 'I'm a sexy bitch' without being too slutty."

"I guess," he sighs dramatically, as he smoothes the front of his dress out.

"Nice perfume Griss, do you have to marinate in it though?" I giggle, as the smell suddenly assaults my nostrils.

"It's Envision, nine out of ten drag queens prefer it," he smiles, offering his wrist for Catherine to sniff, whilst the other hand disappears behind his back.

"Envision? It smells more like Invasion. Gil, you got worms or something?" Catherine frowns, as she watches him. "Quit fiddling with your ass, its not attractive for a woman your age to go hiking up her butt."

"I can't help it, these pantyhose are _so_ uncomfortable," he grimaces and shuffles from foot to foot. "And this thong is killing me, it's digging right up my behind, it's like sitting on a knife edge."

I deposit my beer on the bar, and put my head in my hands as I giggle uncontrollably at the thought of Grissom in a thong. There's no way I'm going to sleep tonight, the evil thoughts have already invaded my brain, and nightmares of him running around in a dress wearing revealing underwear will probably haunt me for the next few weeks.

"Welcome to being a woman," Catherine says breathlessly from laughing. "Trust me though; the thong is the least of your problems."

"Do heels always hurt his much? My bra is beginning to chafe my nipples to raw hamburger," he purses his lips and adjusts his bosom.

"God, would you quit moaning? You're ruining our amusement," I roll my eyes at him.

"Serves you right," Catherine wags a finger at him. "Now be a good boy, and enjoy the payback."

He's evidently not done moaning yet, since he carries on without missing a beat. "I can't even walk in these boots; I'll never know how Catherine can run at full speed in heels."

Ooh Catherine in heels, I was in desperate need of a fantasy moment to stave off the thong horrors, and I'll cling onto this one like the dickens.

"It takes practice, but the upside is, they make your legs look longer, and diminish the size of your ass," she explains.

"I don't have a big ass do I?" he asks, trying to get a look at it. "Oh god, this isn't going well at all, I have a fat ass!"

I'm helpless with laughter, and watching Catherine giggling herself stupid isn't helping any either.

"Hey, Peaches, you didn't wax him did you?" Marty asks, knowing if she did, Grissom is going to be in agony tomorrow.

"No, I wasn't feeling that evil, baby," she replies, patting her hair and smiling. "We just shaved him."

"Good job too, I'm all out of Viagra," Marty grins in response.

"Viagra?" Grissom says, with a puzzled look.

"Yeah, would have kept the sheets off your bruises," he snorts with laughter.

He frowns, not getting the joke, and then looks scandalised when Catherine grabs a handful of his 'boobs'.

"Nice rack Gil, pretty convincing too," she says, giving them another squeeze for good measure.

"Stop sexually harassing me," he says with an effeminate tone, clearly getting into his role, as he slaps her hands away. "I'm not that kind of girl."

John suddenly goes bright red, when he turns to look at Grissom. Whatever it is he's focused on, he's certainly mesmerised by it. He catches me watching him and blushes even brighter, before tapping Peaches on the shoulder and pointing to Grissom.

"Sweetie," Peaches takes hold of Grissom's arm. "The back of your dress is tucked into your panties."

He turns a lovely shade of lobster red beneath his makeup, and quickly yanks his dress out, as everyone howls with laughter.

"In Vegas, we call that assing around," I chuckle, as he self consciously fiddles around with his clip-on earrings; and smoothes his hair down in a state of embarrassment.

"In Frisco, we call that advertising," Marty deadpans, as Catherine convulses with laughter, in a nearby bowl of peanuts.

"Okay Giselle honey, you're all sorted, just remember you're wearing false nails grip, so grip with your hand and not with your fingers. Oh and heel to toe baby, heel to toe," she kisses him on both cheeks, and places a hand on her heart, looking immensely proud of him.

"Giselle? Whose idea was that?" Catherine bites her lip as she tries to control another wave of laughter, in a way that I find completely adorable.

Grissom scowls. "Peaches said Giselle suited me, but I quite liked the name Lola."

"We talked about that honey child, Lola sounds just a little too brazen for the look we're trying to create on you," Peaches explains, fiddling with Grissom's wig because he keeps playing with it, and it's gone wonky.

"So what do I have to do now?" he asks with a hand on his hip, looking like a horrific re-enactment of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

"Just sit there, and get drunk until you're due on stage," Marty replies. "I'll shout you when you're up."

"Stage?" He says, looking horrified.

"Every drag queen is required to do at least one song. Oh and we don't mime here, we like live performances," he delivers the coupe de grace, as Grissom goes pale.

"Oh don't panic, sweetie pie," Peaches comes to his rescue. "I know the perfect song for you."

***

"Where've you been? How long does it take to pee?" Lynn asks, as she and Sam grab hold of me, and drag me to one side.

"There was a queue. What's wrong?" but before I get an answer, I notice with an unpleasant jolt that TJ is sitting next to Catherine, and the two seem deep in conversation.

"I don't know, but TJ has been talking to Catherine for about ten minutes, and she doesn't look too happy," Sam supplies.

"Shit."

"They're definitely discussing you though, I heard your name mentioned more than once. Please tell me Catherine knows about your past," Lynn says worriedly. "I mean she doesn't seem the kind of person to judge, but you know what TJ is like."

"Trust me, it'll be okay," and I'm confident about that, or at least I'd like to think I am. "I better go see what she's saying."

"There you are babe," Catherine turns to give me a bright smile, and leans back into me, wrapping my arms around her. "TJ was just telling me about your mile high experience. Unfortunately, I've heard it all before."

"That's TJ for you, she always was good at telling people things they've already heard," I raise an eyebrow at her, when a look I know too well settles onto her face; it's the look she wears when she's about to screw somebody over.

"I was just in the process of telling Catherine why you and I split up, actually," she says, a nasty glint in her eye. "Imagine my surprise, when she told me she's got a daughter."

She runs a hand through her short dark hair, and takes a sip of her beer. She probably thinks she can still affect me, but I've changed since then. Gone are the days, when she could reduce me to tears, easily.

"I'm not quite sure whether she's brave or just plain stupid," she smiles as she continues to stir things, and just as I'm about to take a step closer to knock her block off, Sam pulls me back.

"Listen TJ, whatever it is you think you're trying to say here," Catherine cuts in, "I think you should save your breath, because I'm not interested."

"I'd advise you to listen to the lady, and save your lies," Lynn warns her, "because if I gotta tell you again, I won't be so nice about it."

"They're not lies though are they, _Saz_?" she smirks. "I wonder if your new girlfriend would be so confident playing happy families with you, if she knew your mother was a nutcase in an institution, not even ten miles from here. Like I said, watch her around your kid, the apple never falls far from the tree."

"Catherine already knows about my mother," and it's true, she does, because it was one of the things we talked about that night in our tent.

I told her everything, about how my mother killed my father one night during an argument, because she couldn't live with him using us as a punch-bag any more. She finally understood why I have a problem with cases involving kids, and she promised me we'd never have to talk about it again, because I want to keep it buried where I left it.

"And that's not why we broke up. We broke up because TJ couldn't help banging anything that moved, and was looking for a way out anyway. So unless you'd really like to come closer for old time's sake, and see just how far I can fit my foot up your ass, I'd think about going home."

She glares at me, knowing she can't affect me anymore and hates the fact. If I wasn't trying to be so serious, I'd do the 'fuck you' dance in front of her. You know the dance I mean, you chant 'fuck you' multiple times in a sing song voice, whilst wiggling your ass and flashing the middle finger on both hands.

"Just remember this; Sara doesn't stick around long, she's left every woman she's ever had," she says stubbing her cigarette out, before downing the rest of her drink as she gets up to leave.

I'm about to follow her to give her a piece of my mind, when Catherine takes hold of my hand and shakes her head. "Let it go sweetheart, she's not worth it."

"Catherine's right; let her go," Lynn pulls us all into a hug. "Right girls, drinks are on me, lets get blasted."

***

I watch through my fingers as Grissom staggers toward the stage, and almost takes Marty's eye out with his fake boobs, as he suddenly lurches to one side. John goes mincing after them to help escort him onto the stage, and reaches his side just a moment too late, as Grissom falls up the steps in a distinctly un-ladylike fashion. Catherine and I are helpless with laughter, as we watch him rolling around on the floor with his legs sticking up in the air, while John and Marty desperately try to haul him upright. Peaches stands nearby, flapping her hands and clucking like a mother hen, as she tells the boys to be careful with him.

As they manage to get hold of him, and pull him to his feet, he shows half of the bar his underwear, whilst showing the other half his fake cleavage. Tears of laughter roll down my face when I catch him trying to pulls his dress down, and discretely free his butt of the troublesome thong, while he attempts to keep his balance. John then quickly grabs a thoroughly shell-shocked looking Grissom, and kisses him full on the lips, before slapping his ass in a 'good luck' gesture and jumping off of the stage to re-join us.

"Good evening once again, ladies and gentlemen," Marty waves at the crowd. "I hope you'll join me in welcoming a very beautiful young lady onto the stage, tonight. Please put your hands together, for the one, the only….Giselle!"

The audience goes nuts with a big round of applause, as Catherine chokes and hands me the camera. It was her job to take pictures of him, but she's still giggling so much, that the camera would be all over the place. I've got Sam and Lynn filming his routine on Marty's video camera, and I'm taking random shots to embarrass him with tomorrow. Just wait till these babies find their way to the break room wall.

"Good evening, and thank you for your lovely welcome," Grissom blinks into the spotlight. "My name is Gil…I mean Giselle, and I'll be singing one of my favourite songs for you tonight."

After another enthusiastic wave of applause, all becomes deathly quiet when the pianist starts up. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear Grissom had been born to be a queen, his face seems to transform as he grabs the microphone, and looks at the audience coyly. The pianist plays with subtle emotion, and the crowd begins to sway back and forth. John watches nervously from the edge of his seat, as Grissom teeters across to the piano, and drapes himself over it; it in what he assumes is a sexy manner.

_Hey lady, you lady, cursing at your life  
You're a discontented mother, and a regimented wife  
I've no doubt you dream about, the things you'll never do  
But, I wish someone had talked to me  
Like I wanna talk to you....._

John brushes a tear from his eye, and even Catherine has stopped laughing and is now watching with rapt attention at this point. He's actually got a good voice, he looks as if he's been doing this all of his life, and I'm pretty impressed. Should I feel guilty for still wanting to laugh my ass off? Probably, but I can't help it. I snap another few photographs off, and continue sniggering like a teenager from behind my hand, especially when he sings his next line.

_I moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo, and showed 'em what I've got!_

He somehow wiggles his ass at this, thrusts his chest out, and flicks his long dark wig out of the way with a turn of his head. Unfortunately, the effect is lost when the momentum causes him to stagger forward, knock the mic stand over, and almost end up crushing the front row to death with his fake hooters.

This starts Catherine off laughing again, and she buries her face in my shoulder with a strangled giggle. Oh this is going to be some priceless stuff; I can't wait to show the guys. Greg will just about have a heart attack, and god knows what Warrick and Nicky will do. I'm distracted for a moment, when Catherine suddenly jumps as if she's startled, and then fishes in her pocket for her mobile phone.

"Hello? Hang on a minute, I can't hear you," Catherine turns to face me. "I'm just gonna step outside, my sister is on the phone. I'll be back in a minute, honey."

"Okay Cath," I smile at her, but then an unpleasant feeling settles in my stomach.

_I've been undressed by kings, and I've seen some things that a woman ain't supposed to see  
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me_

I watch as Grissom continues to sing, but I'm not really listening. I'm too busy worrying about this niggling feeling, which refuses to go away. Catherine had tried calling her sister several times from the hotel, but she couldn't get an answer. I begin to worry that something has happened, and my fears are confirmed when she returns, looking more than a little upset.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

"I need to go home in the morning," she says straight off. "Eddie went and pulled Lindsey off of her school trip earlier on this afternoon, but nobody knows where the bastard is."

If I were Eddie, I'd hope to god she'd cooled down by the time she caught up with me, because she looks just about ready to kill him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Sara," Catherine calls out to me, as she gently shakes me awake.

"Uh?" God, I sound so intelligent in the mornings, making noises only a caveman could understand and drooling like a rabid chipmunk.

I blink as she switches the light on, and smiles at me. "It's time to get ready, sweetheart."

I nod stupidly with a smile, and snuggle down again, whilst privately wondering what it was I'm supposed to get ready for. Once again thanks to the alcohol, my mouth must have agreed to do something without consulting my brain. What's worse is Catherine is fully well aware of this flaw, and could have made me agree to anything.

"Hey, Sidle," she says a little louder, and nudges me again. "Time to get up."

"I'm up," the vacant stare has finally gone, and I'm breathing on my own, so that's a bonus.

Then it all sinks in, Eddie has gone for a Burton, and taken Lindsey with him, and I agreed to go back home to Vegas with Catherine. I remember we talked about it last night, sometime around my fourth Margarita, which rested heavily on top of all the other alcohol I'd consumed. Catherine was sucking them down like a vacuum cleaner, but was too angry for it to have much effect. I only wish I'd been the same. It took a litre of water, and half an hour with my head down the toilet calling for my Uncle Huey, before I felt any better. I swear to god, it's the very last time I let anything stronger than coffee past my lips.

Eddie aside, it would have been a great night out. After a rousing performance, Grissom performed no less than three encores, and by the end of the evening was signing autographs, and lapping up the attention. He did however pause for thought, when John wanted him to sign his name on his ass cheek. Eventually they came to a compromise and he gave him his autograph, as well as a lipstick kiss on the back of his latest bank statement.

But neither Catherine or I had taken much notice, she was busy thinking up new and inventive ways to kill Eddie and I was just trying to be of some use for once and figure out how to help her. She was more angry than worried; she claimed Eddie would never put his daughter in any danger on purpose. I had to believe her, she knew the guy a lot better than I did, she should do because she's been married to him long enough.

I was unsure of whether to mention about going home with her, I figured she'd have enough to do and I didn't want to get in the way, although I wanted to be there for her, obviously. I was still debating what to do about it, when it came time for us to leave the bar, and she made the decision for me by asking if I'd fly back with her. It led to a discussion about what would happen once we got there, and what we could expect of each other. She told me that as far as she was concerned nothing would change, that she'd still want me as a much in Vegas as she did in Frisco. She was able to guess that I felt the same way when I held her in my arms, and grinned like a maniac, whilst we waited for a cab to take us back to the hotel.

The whole thing may actually have been a little romantic, if it hadn't been for Grissom hugging a stop sign drunkenly, and asking us why the street kept moving, as he hooked a leg around the pole for further stability. This caused a nearby patrol car to question exactly what he was doing to said pole. Which then very nearly resulted in us all being arrested, when the cop decided Grissom just had to be humping it. After explaining that it was his first time as a queen; and that he'd been nervous about coming out to us and got roaring drunk, the officer softened up and gave Grissom his number before winking at him, and moving off as Cath and I breathed a sigh of relief. God knows how we'd have passed that one off to Ecklie.

We decided to prop him up against Marty's car instead, each putting one hand on either side of him in an attempt to keep him upright, as we carried on discussing our future. But the effect was kinda lost when I realised us having a hand on Grissom's ass, was making it difficult for both of us to gaze into each other's eyes. Him alternately hiccupping, and grinding out a garbled version of all four verses of Danny Boy, didn't exactly help either. When we finally managed to drag him out of the taxi sometime around 3am, he was completely paralytic and Catherine and I had to manhandle him to his room, which was made even more difficult by his refusal to take his boots off. We left him curled up on his bed, and singing into the tv remote as though he were Dusty Springfield.

In any case, all that remains now is to sort out the flights and quickly check to see if Giselle is still on this mortal coil. I don't hold out much hope, as I said he was several steps away from death last night, in an even worse state than I had been before I fell asleep in Catherine's bath last week.

"Are you still with us or should I arrange for the coroner to come?" she grins, smoothing my hair back from my forehead.

"I'm here, I might be on a delay, but I'm here," I rub my eyes and give her a lazy smile. "You can grab the bathroom if you want, I'll call the airline."

"It's early yet," she husks and snuggles down next to me. "I figure we have a little time."

"Are you going to take advantage of my body?" I ask, as she boldly slips her hand under my shirt, and tickles my stomach.

"Nope," she chuckles breathily against my neck. "I'm just on a test run."

"Get out of my bed then, you evil wench," I say with a snicker, but complain the minute she removes her hand. "You better put your hand right back up my shirt Willows, and I'd like it a little higher please."

"Stiff biccies, Sidle," she shakes her head, sounding too much like me for it to be mentally healthy. "Do I look like the kind of girl to take orders?"

"Not really, but you sure as hell know how to give a few," I say with a lustful smile, as she grins at me and suddenly straddles my hips.

"Oh you like it when I give orders, huh?" she's found one of my weak spots and she knows it, because nothing is sexier than Catherine barking out instructions.

I'd have sold my grandma, just to get Catherine to order me around a little. But as I've already said, my grandmother was like Hitler in support stockings, so it would have been no great sacrifice. The rewards however, would have been priceless.

"Oh yes," I nod with a wiggle of my eyebrows, figuring I'm going to get a kiss at the very least.

"Good," she presses herself against my hips, and grinds against me ever so slowly. "Sort the flights out, while I grab a shower. That's an order."

"Not funny Cath!" I pout when she jumps off me with a laugh, and goes running into the bathroom.

I'll do as I'm told, for now at the very least but I'm already formulating evil plans to get her back. In fact, if she doesn't watch it, I might just run her best knickers up the flagpole at PD. The thought makes me chuckle, as I put the coffee machine on and then wait for the ticketing agent at the other end of the phone to pick up. Eventually she does, after like ten minutes of Greensleaves with a crappy beat. At the end, I've been brainwashed, and am standing there nodding my head like one of those dogs in the rear window of people's cars.

I tell her I wish to change our departure date, and have to wait another ten minutes, this time with a rendition of Forever in Blue Jeans in what appears to be Mandarin Chinese, so that's me musically set up for the day. Thank god it didn't take much longer to change the booking, or I shudder to the think of what the next song would be. I scrawl down the details and thank the agent before hanging up. Thanked her? I should have slapped her; since I'm sure I could hear her filing her damn nails on the other end of the phone while my ear drums were being battered. I realise I'm getting cranky again, so I automatically reach for the coffee, and hope it also counters the effects of the alcohol I drank last night.

I'm only slightly headachy this time as opposed to waking up in Catherine's bath, paralyzed down one side, so it's definitely a big improvement. I did however worry, that we were turning into alcoholics. Catherine helpfully pointed out that we couldn't be, since alcoholics went to meetings, so that just made us a pair of drunks. Which, strangely enough, doesn't really sound any better.

I begin pacing with my coffee, still nodding my head and humming that fucking tune. I'm far too nervous to sit still, I'm worried about Lindsey and I'm worried about Catherine. I can't help feeling afraid that next time I see her, she might be wearing an orange boiler suit, and have 'Bubba's Babe' tattooed on her bicep. Not that I think she'd stupid enough to get caught mind you, but the thought's in there now, much like Forever in Blue Jeans.

"Where are my pants?" Catherine comes crashing out of the bathroom, looking harried as she interrupts my hatchet job on a foreign language.

Not for the first time, I realise that the woman couldn't get ready on time if her ass was on fire. It wouldn't seem like such a big deal for most people. I myself, have a rigid schedule that I don't deviate from. You know, jump in the shower, soap my assets, shampoo my wig and out again to brush my teeth. Clothes on, and hair blow-dried to within an inch of its life, and looking like a Fox news correspondent's after a thunderstorm. But Catherine only hauls ass at work. At home, she deals in timetables that don't compute with any rule of time and space that I've ever heard of. There's a name for it, UCT: Universal Chick Time. I suspect many of the females on this planet keep to a similar schedule. The general rule of thumb is, ten minutes of UCT, is like an hour everywhere else.

"I never thought I'd hear you asking me a question like that," I grin as she shoots me an evil look and hunts around the room.

"That's one thing I can't blame you for, despite trying to get you take advantage of me," she shoots back.

"You had your chance ten minutes ago, but you blew it. I want a ring on my finger now, before your pants come off," I find her underwear and balance them off the end of my finger, as I wave them at her.

"If you think I'm gonna marry you before testing the goods, you must be out of your mind," she grabs her pants, and disappears back into the bathroom.

"How can I take advantage if you won't get naked in front of me," I roll my eyes, and sit down on the bed, before picking up the tv remote and flipping through the channels.

I notice she's left something behind, and pick it up before balancing it on my head.

She comes charging out of the bathroom again. "Forgot my bra this time…are you using it as a pair of ear muffs?"

"It's the only way I'm gonna manage to get into your bra any time soon," I smile at her, showing off more teeth than a tv evangelist looking for a donation.

"Pity you're behaving so badly, I might have let you help me get naked," she says, as she snatches her bra off my head and disappears into the bathroom again.

I catch sight of myself scowling in the mirror. Jesus, when did I turn into Sweeny Todd? I attempt to smooth my hair down, but it's sticking up everywhere now, looking like I had a fight with a Taser and came off worse. I turn and carry on scowling at the door that she's left half open, as if in invitation to have me and my toady little hormones follow her into the bathroom, but she knows I won't or Lindsey will be 21 by the time we got done bopping each other. This is a clear indication I need more coffee, if only to distract me from the thoughts running through my mind.

"Something on your mind?" Catherine asks softly, from behind me, as I realise I've been stood in front of the coffee machine for the last ten minutes, lusting over parts of her body I haven't even seen yet.

I turn around to see her standing in a towel and smiling at me. "You, just like you always."

She pushes off the doorframe and comes toward me, her wet hair slicked down, and dripping onto her shoulders. She stops in front of me, and places her hands on either side of my face, before pulling me closer and pressing her lips softly against mine. Oh good god, my fudgies reach temperatures hitherto unknown to man, as they begin to vibrate at a frequency so high that only dolphins would be able to hear it.

"Maybe now I'll be on your mind a little longer," she whispers, her lips still so close to mine that we're breathing the same air.

"Like I could ever forget you," I say quietly, and close my eyes before pulling her to me as I wrap my arms around her again.

I hold her tightly, knowing that the time of not being able to stop touching her is coming close. Any time she's near me it feels as if somebody jammed a live wire into my brain, and whacked the voltage up. Before I change my mind and put a complete halt to things, I thread my fingers through her hair, and press my lips to hers. As nice as our little kisses have been so far, I want and need more, and I suspect she does too. She groans loudly when I capture her bottom lip in-between mine and graze my teeth across it, causing her hips to buck against me.

I run my tongue across her bottom lip, as her respiration rate increases, and her heartbeat hammers against my chest. I can't resist deepening the kiss a little more, and slipping my tongue past her lips, into the velvety softness of her mouth. My legs almost buckle under me when I feel her tongue give chase, her body tightly pressed against mine as my nerve endings tingle uncontrollably. At some point, without knowing how she managed it, I find myself lying on the bed, with Catherine beside me.

"Good god, Sara," she says, her breath coming in harsh ragged gasps. "You're driving me crazy.

"That's always been my aim, but now I get benefits," I smile and place gentle kisses along her jaw, my lips straying towards her neck.

She makes a raw guttural sound in the back of her throat, as my lips caress the soft skin of her neck. Her fingernails gently scrape against the bottom of my back, as a bolt of arousal shoots through me and leaves me shaking with sheer need. My lips trace a path over her bare wet shoulder, and as my teeth softly nip at the skin, she moans loudly and in one fluid motion pushes me on my back to sit astride me.

"Ah ah, that's naughty. I didn't say you could bite," she grins seductively, as she places her hands on my shoulders.

"I didn't say you could pin me down on the bed either," I smile back. "Just out of curiosity, you are completely naked beneath that towel aren't you?"

"I am," she replies huskily, her skin glistening in the lamplight.

"I thought so," I stop talking, and make a show of listening for something. "Is that your phone ringing?"

She listens, her brow furrowing, before she finally nods. "Sounds like it, probably my mother. She said she'd call."

As she climbs off me and goes to retrieve her phone, I grab the edge of her towel and before she realises what's happened, it's far too late. She's standing there flashing her bare ass at me, as I hold the towel aloft and giggle. In fact, that's not the only thing I'm holding aloft. I wave my mobile phone at her, before snapping it shut.

"You little…" she turns around rapidly, and runs toward me to retrieve her towel.

"I just couldn't resist," I say, still laughing my ass off too much to get a good look at anything.

"Just wait till we get home, you're in big trouble," she grins, and yanks the towel out of my hand, before wrapping it around herself again.

"Won't take long to punish me you know," I wiggle my eyebrows. "Five minutes up against the wall is all I need."

"Not on your life, Sidle. I'm gonna make you wait now, and boy will you suffer," she says, before entering the bathroom once more to get dressed.

***

An hour later, we're packed and ready to go as I stumble down to the hire car with our baggage, and almost break both legs and acquire a hernia as I toss it into the trunk. How come it feels heavier now than when we came? How do they do that? It's like one of those deep mysteries in life, like when you walk into a room and can't remember why the hell you went in there. Or you pick up a cup that you thought was full, but is now empty and not only does it feel weird 'cause you thought it would be heavier, but you also wonder where on the earth the liquid went since you don't remember drinking it.

When I meet up with Catherine again, she's standing in front of Grissom's door and hammering hell out of it. I really do begin to wonder if he's kicked the bucket, and that's another thing we couldn't explain to Ecklie. Grissom's dead body in a room full of women's clothes, which begged the question of whether he was a transvestite when he was alive, or whether he was such a bad lover that the woman was determined to escape, even from three floors up. I hear a muffled voice from inside, and breath a sigh of relief as we wait for the door to be answered. But a full five minutes later, we're still standing in the hallway. What did he do? Haul his ass as far as the end of the bed, and decide he couldn't crawl the last 36 inches to the door? Catherine rolls her eyes, and hammers on the door again.

"Griss, come on!" I say, as quietly as I can, because it's 8am on a Sunday morning and I don't want to start a riot. "Don't leave us standing out here like spare pricks at a wedding!"

This starts Catherine off laughing, which only gets me interested in the way her chest is wiggling, until she notices and thumps me one on the hip for being such a pervert.

"You don't think he's croaked in the last five minutes do you?" Catherine looks faintly unsure.

"I doubt it, but if he has, you just got promoted, and I want your office."

A moment or two later, there's a click and the door opens. Grissom peeks his head around the door, and I choke on my laughter when I see he's still wearing his wig and his makeup is horribly smudged across his face. He's definitely looking more than a little hung-over, and my laughter intensifies when I notice he's wearing a hotel bathrobe and his pantyhose still. He hiccups and looks as if he's going to be sick as he puts a hand over his mouth, while his eyes start flicking back and forth like a fruit machine.

"Oh my god, its Baby Jane Grissom," Catherine quips, and then promptly begins shaking with barely concealed laughter.

He narrows his eyes at us and he slams the door, as I crack up laughing again. "Cut it out Giselle, let us in."

The door opens an inch, and we slip inside, as he staggers back to his bed and flops down on it. He moans and groans as if in the final throes of death, but still finds time to demurely cross his legs and rearrange his robe around them.

"Forgive me, but if I stand up, I'll fall over," he says, and tries to block out the light, with his hands.

"You want some coffee, Giselle?" I say, fighting to keep my laughter at bay when he slips on a pair of sunglasses.

"Yes please," he groans, and waves a hand at me, as I notice he's still wearing his false nails. "Why are you two here so early?"

Catherine explains the situation, while I cross to the coffee machine. I debate upon whether I should drink another cup, and decide against it. I've already had more coffee than I need, and I'll already spend most of the day peeing like a senior citizen on a road trip. On the other hand, the caffeine always comes in handy, and I can't get any more wired than I already am, so I pour another cup and heap plenty of creamer in.

"So, how's things going between you, and the doc?" Catherine asks, and smiles at me as I hand her a cup and sit down beside her.

"Not well," he replies sadly. "She took the job, but seemed vague over the relationship."

I look at him as if he's slightly insane. I might not be the world's best at reading signals, but even I can't fail to notice what's plainly obvious.

"Griss, she usually travels all over the world to work on high profile cases, and yet she's just agreed to put roots down in Vegas, and you think she isn't interested? She's into you, you big moron."

"Sara's right, she must be serious about you to file for a permanent change of address," Catherine smiles, knowing as well as I do that Dr Miller is hung up on the big lummox.

He looks at us, blinking heavily, before a slow smile makes his eyes twinkle. "Well, now you put it like that, I see what you mean. Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were gay, I thought we were friends?"

"You didn't tell me you were dating Dr Miller," I reply with a cheeky grin.

"Touché," he waves a finger at me. "But even so, I thought you trusted me."

"I do, I just wasn't sure how to tell you. I only told Catherine because she might just have figured it out on her own, after fifty years of marriage," I joke because I hate talking about it like it's a big deal, because it isn't. "It's hard, you know? You don't have to go around telling everyone you're straight, like I have to tell everyone I'm gay, but actually I think you better had now that you're dressed like that."

He laughs at this. "I already knew about you, I've known for a long time. Why do you think I turned you down when you asked me out?"

Catherine stiffens beside me, right around the same time I do. I don't think either of us wants to think about what might have happened. I really couldn't envision living with Grissom, especially not now I'd have to fight to keep him from squeezing his ass into my clothes.

"If you knew, why the hell didn't you say something?" I say grumpily.

"I like my kneecaps on the front of my legs," he purses his lips as he smiles. "If I'd said anything, you'd have become hostile about it, so I wanted to wait until you felt able to tell me. Besides, I had to turn you down because I knew I could never compete with Catherine."

Catherine and both blush bright red and fidget in our seats.

"You knew about that?" she asks, her voice barely above a mumble.

"I know you both well and could spot the signs," he replies, looking very pleased with himself indeed. "When neither of you looked as if you were going to figure it out on your own, I brought you both out here, to see what would happen."

"You sneaky son of a bitch," Catherine grins at him, and jumps up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he turns his attention to me, sees me smiling, and he instantly knows how full of gratitude I am, but knows I typically can't find the words to say it.

"I take it things are going well between the two of you?" he asks, taking a sip of his coffee, and flicking his pinkie out to one side, which causes me to worry we've created a monster.

"Not really, she's a pain in my ass," I say casually, as she sends a mock pissed off look in my direction.

"It's going well," she confirms with a smile. "Sara's kinky habits aside."

"Don't listen to her; she's more than happy to indulge my kinky side, especially when I'm wearing her shower cap."

"How do you know if you're falling for somebody?" he asks suddenly totally out of the blue.

Catherine smiles, she knows as well as I do that he's falling for Dr Miller. "Take Sara for instance. She's my first thought when I wake up, and my last thought before I go to sleep. I could get through the day with a single smile from her, and I'd do anything to make her happy. I spent such a long time running from how I felt, until I realised I was only half a person without her."

Awwww how sweet is she? My bottom lip feels wobbly already.

"Racing heart, butterflies in my stomach whenever Catherine is near me," I pick up the thread. "I can't stand not be around her and when she's gone for more than five minutes, I feel an ache inside my heart that only goes away when she comes back."

I turn to see her eyes glisten momentarily before she blinks, and smiles brightly at me as she takes hold of my hand.

"Is it normal to feel like that?" he asks, tilting his head to one side as if he's analysing the evidence in a case.

"Yes it's normal, why? Do you feel like that about the Doc?" I ask, and even though some things are still a little weird right now, and this is one of them, I'm nothing if not adaptable.

"Yes," he says so quietly that I almost didn't hear him. "She's…wonderful."

"Sounds to me like the unthinkable happened, Grissom," Catherine says quietly, with a smile. "It's possible you're in love."

He looks up at us, confused, like he can't believe it would happen to him, and to be fair, I never did either. This would normally be on my top ten list of weird conversations, but I'm starting to get used to my universe being tipped on its ass.

"But it can't have happened," he replies.

"Even the tin man had a heart Gil," Catherine says with an indulgent smile. "Now it's happened, explore it. Just don't ask yourself too many questions, or it will pass you by."

"You really think I should?" he looks doubtful, his brow furrowed, his brain already running feasibility studies on the subject.

"Definitely think you should. You only get one life to live, and the longer you wait, the more it slips away, trust me," she replies, as if giving the benefit of a lifetime's experience to a small boy.

"Speaking of which," he looks at his watch. "Don't you two have a plane to catch?"

"And an ex-husband to kill," Catherine nods, and drains her coffee before standing up.

"I'll be on this afternoon's flight," he stands up to show us to the door, fussing around us just like Peaches fussed over him last night. "Good luck finding Lindsey. Call Jim if you need to, he'll be happy to help. Oh, and be careful."

We both lean in to kiss him goodbye on the cheek, and he waves to us as we head toward the elevator.

"Do you get the feeling you just visited with an extremely eccentric old Aunty?" Catherine looks at me, slightly weirded out at his behaviour, as I nod.

"I can't believe what we've done," I put my arm around her as we step into the elevator. "The unthinkable just happened, didn't it?"

She nods gravely. "Grissom found his feminine side."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

By 10am we'd arrived back in Vegas and were getting ready to hunt Eddie down. Catherine was pretty certain he hadn't ventured too far, and was probably still in town. But according to her, I was about to see a side of Vegas I'd never seen before, and I wasn't quite sure whether I liked the idea. I was even less enthusiastic about not being armed. After carrying a gun every working day of my life, I got used to the feeling of protection it provided.

Two hours later, I'd been in bars I never knew existed, and felt grimy enough to want to wipe my feet on the way out. So far, nobody had seen Eddie and Catherine was beginning to get more than a little agitated. I suggested we take a short break and pick up some coffee, if only to distract her for five minutes before she lost her temper and stopped thinking rationally.

"He normally has a system," Catherine replies, in-between sips of her latte as we stroll along. "He starts out in one of the bars just off the strip, and bar hops for a while until he decides what he wants to do that night, usually either a strip club or a casino, it varies."

"Best bet?"

"At this time of the day, after checking his usual haunts, and supposing he isn't gambling? French Palace."

"Oh mama," I say with a grin. "I finally get to see where you used to work huh?"

"Quit drooling. Don't be a pervert all your life, have a day off," she chuckles, and takes hold of my hand.

Her phone rings and her eyes widen when she realises its Eddie's number. She quickly clicks the phone on, but all she can hear is static. I take my hand back, because she's already gripping the life out of it like she's squashing beer cans, and I don't want to have to wear a cast for the next six weeks. Although it would damn well serve her right if she decided to get frisky after the fact, no amount of lubricant would solve that situation let me tell ya.

"Ed…Eddie, talk to me you asshole!" the way she paces up and down on the phone, causes several nearby tourists to give her a wide berth. "He's gone."

I can tell by the look on her face, that she could very well get just the teensiest bit psychotic, if she doesn't kick him in the nuts sometime soon. It makes me want to keep out of the way too, even though I don't have any nuts because I'm familiar with her temper. But then she's also quite familiar with mine. Just over a week ago, she and I would quite happily have stowed a nuclear warhead in each other's knickers, and pressed the button on the detonator repeatedly with sheer glee. I get a nice safe feeling when I realise she'd rather be doing that to Eddie now, instead.

She looks like she could use a hug, but then again she's still quite pissed off and self preservation always taught me to stay away from Catherine when she's in the 3000 degrees Fahrenheit range. But then instinct takes over and I close the gap between us, and pull her into my arms, as she rests her head on my shoulder.

"You don't need to look so nervous," she chuckles. "I'm pissed off at Eddie, not you."

"Force of habit. I was getting ready to go hide out somewhere, until Hurricane Willows had blown herself out."

"If I could blow myself out, honey, I'd be in movies," she grins as I burst out laughing, and despite the fact we're in public, she leans up to kiss me softly. "Right come on, let's get going."

"You ever tried coming?" I joke, my way of trying to ease the tension, I'm fully well aware she doesn't know where her daughter is and I'm also aware I'm about as much as use as a pair of boobs on a fish, but I'm trying my best.

"Not recently, but next time I come, it'll be with you," she winks.

I stow my tongue in the upright position for takeoff, lest I trip over the grubby great thing while I'm trying to walk.

***

The bright sunshine is replaced with the dim lights of the club, and the noise of the general bustle outside turns into the thumping drum beat of a dance track, as we make our way across the club, and towards the stage. A barely dressed woman is waving her twins at the crowd, and I'm not exactly looking per se, but I'm not dragging my eyes away either.

"Hey, cut that out. I didn't look at Peaches like that," she grins, and nudges me with her shoulder.

"I'm not ogling; I'm merely trying to confirm that her rack isn't real."

"Definitely not real, honey. Very few in here will be, I know that from experience," she supplies as I wonder exactly what that 'experience' might mean.

"How do you know that? Did you go around squeezing 'em all?" I tease with a grin.

"I might have felt several pairs in my time," she winks at me. "And pray tell me; how do you know they're not real just by looking at them."

I clear my throat casually. "Years of experience as a CSI."

"Yeah right," she scoffs, and giggles at my rapidly spreading blushes. "Over here."

We head towards the stage, where tables are arranged in neat little rows, and at this time of the day are sparsely populated, as is the bar.

"You still looking?" Catherine teases, as we get closer to the woman gyrating around the pole on stage.

"I can't help it, I'm having a fantasy moment," I reply as she grins, knowing only too well that that it's her I'm thinking about, nobody else.

"Excuse me, Sir," Catherine says, as a middle aged man with grey hair and glasses blinks up at her. "Can we see your permits?"

"Oh, hi, gorgeous. How are you?" he beams at her, and grabs her hand, as she leans over to let him kiss her cheek.

"I'm doing great thanks, Ted," she replies, taking the empty seat nearest to him, as I grab the other one beside her. "This is Sara Sidle, my partner. Work, as well as personal."

I nearly fall off my chair at her admission, but he doesn't seem to mind, he merely smiles and offers me his hand.

"Hello, pleasure to meet you," I give him a friendly smile as I shake his hand.

"Hi, good to meet you too. You should have seen this lady dance. Oh, she was good! But I suspect you know that," he smiles amiably, and then turns back to Catherine. "You still working with the cops?"

"Can't seem to get off the night shift."

"Oh my god, please tell me she never dressed like that," I say, mostly to myself as another dancer, who's wearing even less than the last one turns up on stage. Catherine turns around, as she laughs.

"If you want to call that dressed, yeah I did," she takes hold of my hand under the table, and laces our fingers together, as she leaves me to watch the show. "Hey Ted, you seen Eddie around lately?"

"Certainly have," he nods, tapping the ash off of his cigar. "He was in here last night, and I spoke to him for five minutes before I left. There was a bit of an altercation with one of my girls, goes by the name of April. She claims he raped her, but Eddie says she was into it from the start."

"Shit," Catherine says under her breath, and tightens her grip on my hand.

"Shit is right. The night guys told me about it. Boy, Eddie never changes, huh?"

Catherine pauses, and it's as if she's transported back to another time and place, a different chapter of her life. Her eyes rest on the young scantily clad woman on stage, as if she's remembering being in her place once. Both Ted and I turn to her with concern, realising she's zoned out.

"Bring back memories?" Ted asks.

"Too many," she shakes her head, as if it to clear it of her thoughts. "The night guys got any idea what happened after that?"

"She wouldn't back down, and the PD took him away as far as I heard; son of a bitch is probably sitting in a cell somewhere, still."

"Did he say anything about Lindsey, anything at all?"

"No, should he have?"

"He took her out of a school trip; I don't know where she is," it's now that the worry finally breaks through, and plainly shows on her face, and I could happily swing for Eddie, and not think twice about it.

"She'll be somewhere safe, Eddie worships that kid. If you don't find him, try The Tangiers, there's a pretty little girl who works on reception, her name is Charlotte. She and Eddie got a thing goin' on; she might be lookin' after Lindsey for him."

"Thanks, I'll be sure to try there," Catherine stands up, and shakes his hand. "Take care, Ted."

"You too, Cat," he smiles, and then shakes my hand. "And if you need anything else, call me."

She appears to be deadly calm, and maintains her composure until we get outside. Then her face goes a spectacular shade of red, as a vein on her forehead pops out and begins to throb. Good lord, the woman is in kill mode. She slips her mobile phone from her belt, and dials a number, tapping her booted foot rapidly.

"Hey Brass, its Catherine. You know if Eddie is still down at PD?" she waits, pacing back and forth occasionally, before tapping her foot again. "Yeah, was up on a rape charge according to Ted Beaton…you're kiddin' me? Ah shit! Thanks Jim, if you hear anything, gimme a call 'cause the son of a bitch is supposed to be looking after Lindsey and I don't know who she's with… thanks."

"What's going on?" I ask when she snaps her phone shut.

"Charges were dropped a couple of hours ago, the girl decided it wasn't rape after all and Eddie walked," she's interrupted again when her phone rings. "Jim…you're sure about that? Okay thanks, I owe you one."

"What now?" I ask as she ends the call, for a second time.

"April turned up at PD this morning with a gorilla in a suit, and shortly thereafter, Eddie was released and drove off with them. Only problem with that is, the guy in the suit is Tommy Crane."

"And that name should mean something because?" I've been here three years, and I still can't memorise all of the scumbags in this town.

"Tommy Crane is one of Sam's goons," she folds her arms, and glances around us, squinting in the bright sunlight.

"Sam Braun? Holy shit," I shudder, and give an extra shudder when I realise I'm dating his daughter.

She laughs at this, and only shuts up when I glare at her. "Relax, Sam isn't gonna do anything to you. But he probably will do something to Eddie. That's why I need to go see him."

"Doesn't Eddie know?" I ask, as we head off back to the car.

"Only four people know who my father is. My parents obviously, and the other two are lookin' at each other," she says, gesturing between us.

"Right let's go see Sam, before I realise I've only got one life to live and get stubborn about living it," I reply, unlocking the car as she starts laughing again.

***

As we cross the foyer of Sam's Casino, several eyes turn in our direction. Even though we're off duty, not carrying firearms and have no visible ID, we must still look like law enforcement. Either that or it's the neon sign above Catherine's head, that proclaims she's going to kill anything that has chest hair within a five mile radius. As we approach reception, the clerk opens her mouth and begins grinning away like she's just swallowed a sixty watt light-bulb.

"Good morning Ma'am. Can I help you?" The young receptionist asks cheerfully.

Oh god, don't call her Ma'am, you're only young, and the fact you don't have chest hair doesn't mean you're safe. Quit grinning so much, and do as the woman asks, or nobody, including me, will get hurt.

"Yeah. Is Sam Braun in?" Catherine asks, evidently not taking kindly to the Ma'am bit, and raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"He's not seeing anyone today," she chirps, and I wonder how any of her dating partners put up with her for more than a week. I'd have dumped somebody before now for that kind of perkiness, because there's such a thing as being _too_ happy, and it's creepy.

Catherine doesn't care, and her second eyebrow joins the first one. "Would you let him know that Catherine Willows is here to see him?"

The receptionist's smile tightens and she begins typing away. I'm beginning to understand why our dealings with Lou-Ann had a certain charm, I almost miss her.

"Just one minute please," she says, after listening into her headpiece, types some more, and then disappears through a doorway behind her desk.

"Mugs!" a voice says, barely thirty seconds later as I jump out of my skin. "What brings you here?"

"I think you already know that, Sam. Where's my daughter?" Catherine's tone turns a little frosty; she evidently still hasn't forgiven him for their past history, and I'm not sure I would either.

"Who is this delightful young lady?" he smiles in my direction, and I'm pretty sure tomorrow I'll wake up with either a horses head on my pillow, or find myself taking a swim in Lake Mead with a pair of concrete boots.

"This is Sara, she's my girlfriend," she says straight off. "Girlfriend, as in yes we're dating, before you ask. I didn't come here to discuss my love life, I came here to find out where my daughter is, and I've taken more than enough shit in the last 24 hours, so please don't piss me off any more."

Sam chuckles, his eyes twinkling like Catherine's do, as he smiles over at me. "She's so much like her mother; looks like you have your hands full, Sara."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I say squeakily, accompanied by what was meant to be a smile, but probably looks more like chronic constipation.

For god sake, Sidle, loosen up. He's not going to have you murdered in the foyer of a busy casino, he's going to wait until you can't fight back, and least expect it. He'll pick a time when you're in the shower, or sitting on the toilet with your underwear around your ankles. In which case you really won't care by the that point anyway, after being caught bare assed on the john. Stand up straight, square your shoulders, and look casual about the whole thing, whilst maintaining a slight air of menace. That way, you're bound to look just a little bit more effective than your current 'as useful as a fart in a jar' status.

"Sam, I'm not kidding, where is she?" Catherine warns, her eyes flashing at him dangerously.

"She's safe; your mother took her home about a half an hour ago, because we figuredthat was the best place for her," he places a fatherly hand on her shoulder, trying to placate her but I doubt that will work, because even I can tell she's annoyed at the way they've handled it.

"Why the hell didn't anyone call me?" she snaps, shrugging his arm off and falling into her regular habit of pacing.

"I wasn't sure what time your flight would get in," he replies and we all know its bullshit, he was stalling because he wanted Eddie to himself. "So your mother thought it would be best to just take Lindsey home, rather than have her hanging around here."

"Typical Mom, she never could resist taking charge," she says with irritation, even though she knows they did it with the best of intentions, because she's sick of the way they frequently treat her like a child, instead of the 42 year old woman that she really is.

"No harm was done, Lindsey was fine, and the charges against Eddie have been dropped. I've had a chat with him, and its all been sorted out."

"Where is he? What did you do, and does he know you're my father?"

"He's at home; I had him dropped off there. I didn't tell him about being your father, I figure that's up to you to tell him, he just sees this as being a warning from an old friend. As for our little chat, let's just say he's been told to behave himself. I don't think you'll find him taking her without asking again."

"Yeah well just for the record, I find you butting into my private life again, and there'll be hell to pay. Lindsey is my daughter, and Eddie is my problem, and I'll sort it," she marches off angrily, but comes right back. "Thank you for making sure she was safe, it means a lot to me," she kisses him on the cheek, and strides off again.

"Will she be okay?" he asks me with concern, like I'm the expert.

"I don't know, but I'll look after her as best as I can, if that's what you're really asking," I reply, trying to hold his, gaze and stand my ground.

"Good, I'm pleased to know Mugs is being looked after."

"Sidle!" Catherine calls out, walking backwards for several feet as she flashes me a cheeky smile. "We're not done yet, come on!"

"Coming dear!" I call back with a grin.

This starts Sam chuckling again. "She's going to give Eddie the biggest roasting of his life. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes."

"Nor me. Goodbye Mr Braun, and thank you," I say, as he reaches out and takes hold of my hand.

"Goodbye Miss Sara, I have a feeling I'll be seeing a lot of you," he politely nods his head toward me with a smile, and watches as I run to catch Catherine up.

Not if I can help it. As soon as she and I have dated for more than a month without killing each other, we're moving to Alaska.

***

The minute we pull up outside Eddie's apartment, my stomach clenches uncomfortably at the thought of what's about to happen. Litter is spread along the length of the alley; and red brick crumbles against metal fire exits that look as if they too, have seen better days. The hot afternoon sun hits the tarmac, and bounces back up at us, making our eyes water even in sunglasses as it warms our skin uncomfortably. I park the car, and climb out, wondering if it's still going to be here when we get back. Oh well, if they can hotwire it, they can have it because thanks to Grissom, I think my suspension is screwed.

"Asshole is home," Catherine states with a grim smile. "I saw the curtain twitching."

"Now that I think about it, I should have just taken you home," I keep my eyes moving, just in case Eddie decides to go postal, and launch himself off the fire escape like a lemming.

Actually, if he wanted to do that, I'd make him wait until I moved my car first. The suspension might be fucked but I definitely don't want a decorative 'Eddie shaped' hole where my roof used to be.

"Not a chance, I've waited all day to give him a piece of my mind, and when I'm done with him, bastard's gonna wish he'd never been born," she hammers on his apartment door. "Eddie! Open up!"

There's a click and several moments later, the door swings open to reveal a very haggard looking Eddie, unshaven and clothes wrinkled from having been slept in, during the previous night in the cells. He tries flashing her a smile but knows it won't work, as she pushes the door open, almost knocking him off balance. He goes marching after her and I quickly step in, not caring if I'm not invited or not.

"You bastard!" she launches into it at high volume. "You've done some brainless, idiotic, frankly fucking stupid things in your time, Eddie Willows, but this has got to rank as being one of the absolute worst!"

"Hello to you too," he says, with a sarcastic smile hovering over his lips.

"Not only did you take Linds off of her trip, you went and got yourself arrested for rape of all things, while you're supposed to be taking care of her! What in god's name were you thinking?!" she shouts, her chest heaving, the vein in her forehead back, and throbbing full tilt.

"I left her with my girlfriend to take care of a little important business."

"I don't care; you had no right taking her without asking me first for chrissakes! How could you leave her, with one of your goddamn bimbos?!"

She begins pacing the room, and I have a horrible feeling that if she doesn't calm down, Eddie is going to be sporting two black eyes, and have convenient ventilation holes where his teeth used to be. Good job she's not carrying her gun, or he might have been sporting a spare asshole too.

"Charlotte isn't a bimbo; she's got her head screwed on tight. And she loves kids," he argues. "Linds was safe. I wouldn't have done it, if I didn't have the chance of getting a lucrative contract."

"You know as well as I do, you're never going to get a contract worth shit, you've been in the business for over twenty years and you haven't gotten one yet," she paces even faster and slaps a hand against her thigh as she gestures wildly. "You ever, and I mean ever pull a stunt like this on me again, and I promise I'll give you a free vasectomy with a rusty kitchen knife!"

I involuntarily clamp my legs together and grimace, as Eddie gets the picture the same time I do, but he definitely has more to flinch for. He wisely keeps his mouth shut, but Catherine is obviously looking for confirmation that he recognises she's serious.

"Eddie…"

"Okay, okay," he holds hands up. "Who's this by the way?"

"Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but this is Sara, my partner," she replies, before I swallow heavily, and wonder whether we should just take an ad out in the newspaper, it would be quicker.

"I didn't think you had partners at work."

"She's not just a work partner, she's my girlfriend," she drops it on him, and watches with satisfaction as he chokes at her words.

"Yeah right, I'm not fallin' for that one. I hate to tell you this Cath, but you're about as straight as they come darlin'."

"Am I?" she tilts her head to one side. "Guess I'm not as straight as you thought I was."

"You're not serious?" he asks, as his mouth hangs open.

"When have you ever known me to say something, and not mean it?" she glares at him. "Keep away from Lindsey, Ed. When I decide you can see her, I'll let you know. Till then, don't even bother."

"I don't give a shit, what you or your old pal Sam thinks," he growls. "Nobody and I mean nobody, keeps me away from my daughter, and if you were a proper mother, I wouldn't have had to take her in the first place."

"I mean it Eddie, I'm deadly serious. If you come within fifty feet of Lindsey, there'll be trouble."

"Like you're ever gonna notice, now you're fucking around with her," he points to me with a sneer. "That can't be healthy for a child."

Catherine pauses at the door. "You wanna push me? You go ahead, but believe me, Eddie, you won't like it."

As we head back to the car, I can feel his gaze burning into my back, and I can tell I've just committed the cardinal sin in dating his not-quite-ex-wife. A funny feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that despite Sam's intervention, we haven't heard the last of Eddie, and the next time he pops up, he'll mean business.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

By the time we arrived at Catherine's house, I was beginning to wonder if the slight panicky feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach, and shaky hands was normal in a person who technically hadn't done anything wrong. Not unless you count dozens of mental infractions by imagining being naked with Catherine in a whole host of fantasies, during the previous week. I could blame the shaky hands on Marty; because I'm convinced he's recently started using such delightful ingredients as anti-freeze, drain cleaner, and aviation fuel in his cocktails. The feeling in the pit of my stomach however, is entirely biological in origin.

I personally, am not panicking, for Sara Sidle will never admit to panicking, unless of course I'm faced with Sam Braun. No, at this point I'm entirely serene, and having the time of my life. My central nervous system on the other hand, is in meltdown. Millions of years of evolution, are currently making my butt squeak open and closed rapidly in a sort of primitive early warning system, designed to inform me of imminent danger. Taking that and putting it in layman's terms, I'm about to meet Catherine's mother, and I'm bricking it.

I'm pretty sure I have good reason to, when I see her glowering at us from the window as I park in Catherine's driveway. Still, Sam didn't manage to put me off and I doubt her mother will either. It would certainly take more than an irate woman, who looks as if she wants to scoop my kidneys out with a spoon and wear them as novelty earrings, to put me off being with Catherine. If given a choice in the matter though, I would prefer, nay demand, to spend my spare time in a room with a pack of schizophrenic Chihuahua's high on angel dust, than go anywhere near her mother after the way she just glared at me from the window. Catherine turns to smile encouragingly at me, but quickly begins snickering instead.

"What are you laughing about now, Willows?" I raise an eyebrow at her, as I take my seatbelt off.

"The look of sheer terror on your face at meeting my mother," she closes the car door, and leans on the roof as I lock it. "Stop panicking, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Tucked in-between my self-preservation, and common sense," I say grimly.

"Everything will be fine, trust me," she replies and I do, it's just the rest of her family I'm a little wary of.

"If anything should happen though, I wish to donate my body to medical science."

"I'm sure they'd be more than interested, it's not often they find a subject's brain in their ass," she says, as I shoot up the driveway after her, and swing her off her feet as she giggles.

As we reach her front door, her mother is already standing there, lips drawn in a tight line and face looking like a well smacked ass. I place Catherine back down on terra firma, and she leans against me, trying not to laugh, while I take a deep breath and plant a friendly smile on my face.

"Hello Catherine," she pulls her daughter into a brief hug, without once taking her eyes off me.

"Hi Mom, thanks for taking care of Lindsey for me," she says with a smile, probably intending to try and stay in her good books, which doesn't really bode well if even Catherine is trying to be nice to her.

"That's what I'm here for," she says stiffly, snuffing out any attempt to get a proper conversation going.

"Mom, this is Sara. Honey, this is my mom," she introduces us, and her mother nods almost imperceptibly at me.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you Mrs Flynn," about as nice as having a hole drilled in the top of my head with a rusty spike; without anaesthetic, I might add.

When it looks like her mother is about to say something, other than hello, Catherine sidetracks her. "Where's Linds?"

"Watching tv, with Jeremy," she replies, "Your sister is here, too."

Good god, it looks as if I'm on course for meeting the entire clan in a single day. This makes me kinda miserable, but my ass perks up at the prospect of an extended workout.

"Mommy!" Lindsey shoots through the doorway, launching herself at Catherine in a tangle of arms and legs, almost knocking her off balance.

Catherine hugs her enthusiastically, as she rains kisses on her. "Hey baby!"

The change in her is immediate, the look of worry behind her eyes is gone, and so is the tension in her shoulders. A big part of me wanted to kick Eddie's ass into next week for even thinking of putting her under that kind of pressure. Seeing her hurting so badly, even though she tried to hide it was awful, because I knew that realistically I couldn't solve the problem for her. I just had to be there if she needed me, and help her through it as best I could.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's at home," Catherine replies, grinding her teeth at the mention of him.

"Good, I'm not talking to him," Lindsey huffs. "I was having a great time with my friends, and he ruined it."

"You want me to take you back?" Catherine asks, and I know it's the last thing she wants but she's eager to make her daughter happy.

"Nah, I'd rather stay home with you," Lindsey hugs her mother tighter, and smiles at me over her shoulder. "Hey Sara."

"Hey kiddo," I grin, and bump fists with her by way of greeting, before ruffling her hair.

Lily makes a disapproving sound, and disappears back inside the dim interior of the house. I figure discretion is the better part of valour, not to mention the perfect way to preserve my internal organs, so I immediately decide I should make myself scarce.

"I'm gonna go home, sweetheart," I blush when I realise I've just used a term of endearment, especially in front of Lindsey. "I'll call you later on, when you've got some quiet time."

"Oh no you don't, Sidle," she shakes her head, and reaches out to me. "We want you to stay, don't we, Linds?"

"Yeah, you gotta stay, Sara, because I wanna play Barbie and Jeremy won't play. Will you play, please?" she asks, wearing a grin much like her mother does when she wants something from me.

"Definitely, sounds like fun. I think your mom should play too, she was telling me on the plane ride home that she'd missed playing Barbie with you," I smile back, excited about spending time with the two of them, even though I'm nervous about talking to her family still.

"Really?" she gives me a big grin. "That's sooo cool. Mommy usually hates it."

Oh I know she hates it. That would be why she's currently flashing me a look that tells me she'd happily barbecue my hooters with a flamethrower.

"We can play later, but I think we should go see Grandma, and Aunt Nancy for a while," Catherine says, as she places Lindsey back down on the floor, grinning at me by way of revenge.

As we enter the room, all eyes turn to me, and this was exactly what I'd been dreading. I'd rather play tag with a couple of hungry lions, French kiss a rattlesnake, or even cover my ass in barbecue sauce and take a nice relaxing bath in a tank of Piranhas. Any of that would be preferable to sitting and making small talk with her mother, when it's evident she doesn't like me, and probably thinks I'm leading her daughter astray.

"Babe, this is Nancy," Catherine ignores her mother's raised eyebrow, and grins as I shake hands with her sister. "Nance, this is Sara, so behave yourself."

"Great to meet you Sara," Nancy gives me a thousand watt smile, and I instantly feel better. "You're all I've heard about for the last three years. After about six months though, I figured if you'd survived that long she'd rather shag you, than kill you."

"Nancy!" Catherine squeaks, her face going bright red.

"I'll give you my phone number later, Sara. I've got tons more secrets she probably hasn't told you," Nancy giggles, as Catherine looks threateningly in her direction.

Catherine takes hold of my hand and leads me to the sofa, as silence descends over the room. Nancy gives us an encouraging grin, as I smile back stupidly, having lost not only the use of my brain, but the power of speech too. This is like one of those horrible date movies: Meet the Flynn's. Only it ain't just the Flynn's, it was the Braun's, the ex-boss, and the fuckhead husband too. Oh Jesus, this is turning into my worst nightmare. I'm not drinking anything, eating anything or even taking a trip to the bathroom, because we all know how that could pan out. I'm just going to sit here and grin; yep that's it, the nice safe option.

Lily turns her steely gaze on me. "So, you're sleeping with my daughter?"

Shit, is it too late to disappear to the bathroom?

***

An hour later, Catherine and I are sitting in a daze on the sofa, wondering how on earth we managed to survive the last hour. Lily couldn't have been anymore convincing than if she'd told us she worked for the CIA. I'm beginning to understand this is where Catherine picked up her frankly fantastic interrogation techniques. It's also where she picked up that really scary face she pulls when she's super pissed. I make a mental note never to break any of my promises, and never be more than five minutes late for a date, just in case she's inherited anything else from her mother that I'd rather be kept in the dark about.

Nancy did indeed give me her phone number, which I think pissed Lily off but pleased Catherine immensely. She did say she wanted Nancy and I to get along, so I think she was pleased with the outcome of our first meeting. I even got on well with the kids, promising that next time we were all together, we'd play outside in Catherine's pool. All of this took place while Lily's retinas continued to burn a hole through the side of my head. What did she think I was going to do? Tattoo Lindsey, make her wear leather and chains, and smoke cigarettes from astride a Harley? Or turn Jeremy into a drag queen? Actually scratch that last one because I've done that recently, and it turned out to be a nightmare, so I could actually forgive her for being concerned on that score.

"I've got to get going," the older woman bustles around, picking up her handbag barely thirty seconds after Nancy has left. "I've left a casserole in the refrigerator for you and Lindsey, there's enough if your…friend wants to stay. Just pop it in the oven to warm. I'll call you later."

"Mom," Catherine calls out after her, but it falls on deaf ears as the door clicks shut. "Well, I guess we should be thankful you can't knock me up."

This starts me off giggling. "This is true, it's certainly one advantage to dating a woman."

"Yeah, unlike Eddie whose definition of safe sex was not telling me where he lived," she laughs.

"I would've tried that but you know where I live," I say with a grin, knowing full well what she's going to say next.

"You gotta get me into bed first," she winks, the tone of her voice becoming lower and huskier. "And if you don't do something about it soon, I might just have to take matters into my own hands."

"Can I watch?" I say with a giggle, as she thumps me on the leg.

"I can just as easily get my mom to come back," she warns, with an evil smile.

"God no, don't do that, she hates me enough as it is."

Catherine chuckles throatily. "When she gets to know you, it'll be fine. I think it's just been a bit of a shock for her, and knowing Sam, he won't have sugar coated it."

"I'm not sure you _can_ sugar coat your daughter crossing over to the dark side," I say with a smile as she laughs again. "She'll come around but you might have to wait a while, probably until I'm dead."

"It doesn't matter what I do, I'm never going to please everybody. So for a change, I'm going to please myself instead, you too hopefully if things go well," she says, her tone sounding slightly serious.

"Do I look as if I want to go anywhere?" I ask, because it's okay to joke around for the most part, but I know how insecure she can be, and I don't want her to be in any doubt as to how I feel about her.

She slides closer to me on the sofa. "I just have to keep telling myself this is real, that I won't wake up tomorrow and find you gone."

"I haven't spent the last three years letting you drive me crazy, only to give up now. When you're ready to hear it, I'll tell you exactly how I feel about you."

Neither of us is ready yet, although by now I know exactly how I feel and I'm pretty sure she does too. Things between us have always been the same, it's always been all or nothing, and while that was okay in the past, it's not exactly conducive to the kind of relationship we have now.

She leans closer, her eyes gazing into mine, her fingers gently stroking my face. "I want to show you something."

Before I have any time to wonder about what it is that she wants to show me, she's back and clutching something in her hand. I realise it's a photograph, when she sits back down, and hands it to me. I look at it closely, and my eyes widen when I see that it's a picture of the two of us, taken over two years ago just after she and I had solved a very difficult case when a mother had drowned her child on a carnival ride. Rarely for us, we were smiling, and posing for the camera with our arms around each other. It had been one of an entire roll of film that Warrick had taken of the team that day, and I'd forgotten all about it till now.

"How long have you had this?" I say with a smile, running my thumb across the photo.

"I got a copy a few days after it was taken. Remember you asked me, if I'd always dreamed about you?"

"Yeah, I do," I say breathlessly, wondering what's coming next.

"Well, I have. I just didn't realise until the day we were working the Dantini case, that the woman in my dreams was you."

My head spins when I realise what she's telling me. It's made all the more significant, because I know it was the very same day that I had a realisation of my own.

"_This is fun," I said. _

"_As opposed to what?" she asked, a frown crossing her beautiful features. _

"_As opposed to a more scientific approach," I smiled, and turned my head away, but not before catching the smile that made her eyes twinkle, a rare show of her warmth breaking through. _

That was the exact moment I fell in love with her, and I knew that no matter what I did, or how I tried to fight it, it was already too late. It gave me something to hold onto when I crawled into bed exhausted, that night, but never in my wildest dreams thinking that moment had affected her too. I'm completely stunned by it.

"What are you thinking?" she asks softly, knowing I'm not always so quick to volunteer my thoughts without a little push.

"I'm just thinking that you and I probably came to the same conclusion at the exact same time," I say with a grin, knowing that referring to it vaguely is a whole hell of a lot easier than saying those three little words, which incidentally, are the three most important words you can ever say to a person.

"You're kidding?" she asks, looking about a stunned as I feel.

"No," I shake my head, and then flash a wicked grin at her. "Well done, Cath, you had my mouth hanging open for a full two minutes there."

"I was hoping it would be your legs," she giggles, as my mouth drops open again.

"CSI Willows! You little pervert!"

"Given half the chance baby, I could be," she husks. "You've been driving me crazy, and I want to touch you."

I lean back further against the sofa, and almost groan out loud when she captures my lips in a blistering kiss. I give in to the urge to wrap my arms around her, but keep an ear out for Lindsey who's watching tv in her room. The last thing I want is for her to come bouncing in, and find us like this, not after all she's been through lately. Catherine relaxes into me, and sighs softly, smiling against my neck as she settles into the warmth of our embrace.

"Mmm I've wanted to do that all day," she runs a finger across my collar bone, sweeping up a tendril of hair with her fingers, and curling it around them.

"This is nice," I close my eyes, and sigh happily. No matter how many angry relatives Catherine had, I wouldn't change this for the world. "Keep talking, I need something PG that I can drool over because Lindsey's home, and I can't take advantage of you."

"No, but I wish to god you would, what's it gonna take for a girl to get laid, huh? I've been trying solidly for a goddamn week, and you've far too been resistant," she says with a smile in her voice, knowing she can get under my skin so easily.

"Don't start Willows, I absolutely won't get through the night if you start me off now," I point a finger in her direction as a warning.

"That's what I was hoping for," she chuckles softly, before advancing on me and sitting astride my lap. "Where were we?"

"Halfway to bopping each other senseless I think," I say with a wistful smile, as she makes noises of approval. "But you can tell me how you found out about Sam instead."

"It was the night Lindsey was born. I went into Labour early on in the day, and couldn't find Eddie, he was on a binge somewhere at the time. In any case, Nancy drove me to the hospital, she stayed with me and shortly before Lindsey was born, she called my mom, who of course turned up with Sam in tow. When Lindsey was less than an hour old, he crept into the room, and held her in his arms with tears running down his face. When I asked him why he was crying, he told me he was my father. Pretty lousy way to find out, huh?"

"Most people would consider that kind of touching. You know their long lost father so to speak, holding his granddaughter for the first time," I tilt my head so I can look at her.

"Honey, when you're exhausted because you've been in labour for damn near 18 hours, and just pushed a melon out through a hole the size of a…"

"I get it," I stop her hastily, "please don't give me any visuals I won't be able to get rid of. What I want to know though, is how come you never told Eddie? I mean that strikes me as…"

"Evil?" she asks, and I shake my head.

"No, I don't think its evil. I just can't figure out why you wouldn't tell him, especially if you think Sam would take matters into his own hands where Eddie is concerned."

"Sam is my insurance, as calculating as that might sound. Eddie isn't the kind of guy to let somebody go easily, on the three occasions I've tried to get him to agree to a divorce, it hasn't gotten me anywhere. I figured if he ever pulled any serious crap on me, I've always got Sam as a backup."

"You're not just a pretty face are you?" I pull her into my arms, and place gentle kisses against her lips.

"I've got many hidden talents," she says breathlessly, and slides her tongue into my mouth.

I pull back, because if I don't stop kissing her, I'm going to need an iron lung. ""Now now Catherine, behave yourself. We've got work in a few hours."

She groans, and pouts sulkily. "I don't wanna go to work."

"I don't either but we need money, we cannot live on hormones alone."

"Speak for yourself," she leans further forward, pressing her chest against me, which raises my heart rate yet again.

"We've got our holiday snaps to show off, and I seem to remember there was a video…" I remind her, as her eyes light up.

"That's worth going into work for any day," she grins wickedly, "I think it's about time we showed Giselle off to a wider audience."

***

By 9pm we're back at work, and have just spent the last ten minutes hanging out with the guys in the locker room. They were surprised to see us, until Catherine explained our reason for being back, and then they didn't really seem surprised at all. According to Catherine, everyone within a fifty mile radius of Vegas knows what an asshole Eddie is. They did seem quite surprised that she and I were in the same room, and the roof was still on, but they were tactful enough not to mention it, for which I'm grateful and I think Catherine was too. Neither of us wants to explain ourselves yet, especially not after today. I think we both figure we've done enough jumping out of the closet for one 24 hour period. If truth be told, I think we were both a little afraid of them not accepting us.

I enter the break room just several strides behind Catherine, and watch as she bends over to open the refrigerator. She grabs two bottles of water and hands me one, as she straightens up with a grin, knowing I've been admiring the contours of her pert backside. We'd been mindful of the fact that Lindsey was home, so covert flirting had to suffice, and Catherine had very quickly mastered that art and had spent most of the afternoon honing her skills. I on the other hand, felt the entire thing beginning to take its toll on my hormones, she only has to walk into a room, and my pants start jiggling around like a V8 engine.

"Damn near got scurvy," I pretend to complain, as I crack the seal on my bottle.

"You have not got scurvy," she rolls her eyes. "It wasn't that bad!"

"Oh it was bad. Not even the garbage disposal could be fooled into swallowing it," I giggle as she crosses behind me, and slaps me across the ass.

"What wasn't that bad?" Warrick asks, as he comes striding into the room, and heads for the coffee machine.

"I made Lasagna," she explains, "and Sara…"

"No, no," I shake my head. "She didn't make it, she laid it to rest."

"Laid what to rest?" Nicky asks, as he enters the room wearing his trademark lazy smile.

"Lasagna," I pull out a chair, and sit down next to Catherine, as she discretely rests her leg against mine, and places her hand over my knee.

"Who had Lasagna?" Greg asks, as he takes a seat in front of us.

"God, you try and tell a story…" I'm tired, inching toward cranky, and I'm hornier than the brass section of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

"What's up with her?" Greg asks Catherine, as he points to me. "You guys been fighting already?"

"No we haven't, big mouth," I raise an eyebrow at him, as he grins cheekily.

"She's as cranky as all hell," Catherine giggles, flipping a shit eating grin in my direction because she knows it's all her fault.

"I'm not cranky, I'm worn out. Catherine kept me up all day," I yawn on cue.

Greg's face takes on a leering look as he smiles at us both. "Oh do tell, was it anything exciting?"

Catherine gets into the story immediately. "My Mom made a casserole for us, but Sara doesn't eat meat, so I figured we'd have veggie Lasagna, only I can't get into the kitchen to cook…"

"Don't use the word cooking, to describe what it is that you do in the kitchen," I cut in at this point, in order to clarify a few things, "because the meal you cooked for me was verging on crispy. In fact, it was just plain cremated."

"It was your fault I forgot about dinner!" she huffs. "But anyway, at this point I can't get in the kitchen to cook yet, 'cause it's under six inches of water. And you know, if you're gonna complain about my cooking, I just won't ask you to come over any more."

"Then who's gonna plumb your dishwasher back in, if said kitchen is ever floating in six inches of water, again?"

"Anybody can drink six cups of coffee, and wave a wrench about in their tank top, I can do that much myself," she shoots back, clearly getting into her stride as she grins. "Anyway, you like that stuff, it give you a chance to flex your mechanical talents, so quit your bitchin'."

"Oh you're so right, I just love lying on your kitchen floor until five in the afternoon, with soggy scants, trying to figure out where the leak is coming from," I nudge her with a grin, seeming to remember she quite liked it too.

"I made up for it didn't I?" she grins at the memory, and boy did she ever, she kissed me until my lips were completely numb.

'Yeah you did, but I'm still not entirely convinced I should let you off the hook," I counter, with an evil grin.

The boys look at us as if we've lost our minds, which is understandable because they were complaining a week ago that we never stopped fighting. Warrick and Nick are looking at us like we've each grown another head; the concept of us being quite so friendly is obviously a shock to their system. Greg on the other hand, is wearing a lusty look, the mystery of how and why we're talking or arguing like an old married couple I should say, not seeming to bother him.

"Oh oh oh what did Catherine do to make it up to you?" Greg bounces around in his seat, desperately waiting for details.

"Hot monkey sex, on the kitchen floor," Catherine replies, before taking another sip of her water. "Twice."

"Yeah right," Greg scoffs. "Next you'll be telling me you made use of the wrench."

That catches me just the wrong way after Catherine's hot monkey sex comment, and I end up choking on my drink. We didn't of course, but thanks to her, that picture will be stuck in my head all night, now.

"Oh my god, you did!" Greg doesn't know whether to fall off his chair, or ask for more details, when he mistakes my blush for a confession.

Nick shakes his head and grins. "Greggo, my man, Cath's pulling your leg."

"That's as may be, but boy am I enjoying the fantasy," he sighs softly, as he looks off into the middle distance, with a leering look on his face.

"Quit drooling, you little pervert," Warrick smacks him on the side of his head.

"Who said we're kidding?" Catherine grins, not being able to resist teasing them.

Just as Greg is about to say something, Grissom breezes into the room, and starts waving assignments slips around looking a hell of a lot more human than he did this morning. "We've got a heavy schedule tonight, people. Warrick, Nick, suspicious circs out in Summerlin."

"Ooh, rich folks," Warrick comments, taking the slip in his hand, and reading it.

"Greg, you're with me, 419 at the Bellagio. And ladies, we have reports of a severed hand out in Henderson. A woman found her dog snacking on it," he says as if it's an every day occurrence. "So grab your kit, could be a big one."

"The hand?" Catherine says with a grin, as he throws a puzzled look in her direction. "Never mind Gil, go back to sleep."

"Oh well, just us and our hands tonight eh, Catherine?" she picks up on my reference to the song, and begins laughing.

He frowns at us both. "I'm beginning to wonder why I paired you two permanently."

"You seemed pretty sure this morning, Gil," she grins, and he goes slightly pink around the ears.

"Come on people, we're busy, let's get moving," he urges, before leaving the room in a hurry.

"Before you go, we got a little something for you guys that we think you might enjoy," I motion for them to come closer, as I dig some discs out of my pocket.

"This is primo stuff, but you can't tell anybody else you've seen it, it's just between us five okay?" Catherine says, as the guys nod.

"I present to you…A Night with Giselle," I slide a copy to each of them across the table, as their eyes light up at the sound of the title.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

By midnight, I'm so tired that I could happily sleep bare assed on a Ginsu knife. I've been in and out of the Tahoe like a fiddlers elbow, and all I want to do is go home, and crawl into bed. But Grissom wasn't kidding when he said we'd be busy tonight, Catherine and I have had two crime scenes so far and we've only been at work three hours.

Working with Catherine has always left me on a high, but now it's like an addiction. She's got this strange sort of energy, like a force-field around her that makes the air feel electrically charged. When I'm working with her, I feel energised. I want to go the extra mile, push harder, further and faster like she does because I can't help being inspired by her. Once upon a time, it would be like putting my tongue on a battery: I'd get the jolt, but it would leave me with that tangy aftertaste in my mouth. But now, it's like having liquid fire buzzing under my skin. Although, admittedly, I'm too tired tonight to even attempt to keep up with her. So I'm grateful when I get a spare five minutes to grab a coffee, as I wait for her in the break room.

I slide up onto a counter top to rest my legs for five minutes, as I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. No matter how many times I try, I can't stop thinking about Catherine, even when I'm with her. I know I've got it bad. I must have because we've currently been apart less than half an hour and already I miss her too much. I think she's feeling much the same, because she's already asked me to sleep over at her house later on today, and I'd agreed before she'd even finished her sentence. It will just be my luck though, that her mother insists on sharing a bed with us for the next six months, just to check that I keep my hands to myself.

"Sidle, just the person I wanted," Catherine says with a smile, as she strides into the room. "Got an ID on our hand yet?" she slides up onto the unit next to me.

"David Lees, aged 49, born right here in Vegas. Resident of Clark County or at least he was until he was reported missing six months ago," I pass my coffee to her as she yawns. Tonight, she looks as if she needs it more than I do.

"Who's a clever girl then?" she winks at me, and then hands me a piece of paper. "What do you make of the Doc's findings?"

My eyes skim over the page, as I automatically reach for her hand, and lace our fingers together as I rub my thumb across the soft skin, and enjoy the warmth of her beside me. She leans against me, and places her head on my shoulder, not caring that anyone could walk past and see us. I think we're both too tired to care if anybody figures it out right now.

"Amputation was effected with a moderately sharp, non-serrated blade," I shake my head as I remember the conversation we had at the crime scene, she was right, almost word perfect, in fact. "Either you're sleeping with the doc, or you read too much."

She giggles, and then takes a sip of my coffee. "I read too much."

"You would say that," I roll my eyes at her. "No wonder the doc always looks so happy when you're around, it's all that hot monkey sex in his autopsy suite that does it."

"Eurgh," she grimaces, and shoots me a disgusted look. "I don't know what's worse, the idea of doing it in a place like that, or the fact you think I could go near him when he's had his hands in god knows how many cadavers."

"You don't deny finding him attractive then?" I howl with laughter when Catherine shoots me an evil glare. "Cheating on me already? I'm so disappointed in you."

"You better take that back," she threatens, but she's giggling so it kills the effect.

"And if I don't?"

"Then the next time you get near my naked body, will be when I'm 95, and you need to give my old wrinkled ass a bed bath," she snorts with laughter, at the scowl on my face.

"At this moment in time, I'd settle for wrapping my arms around you, while we sleep for the next ten hours," I place our heads together when she leans on my shoulder again, and smile as she makes little purring noises in the back of her throat.

"You say the nicest things, but I've decided not to forgive you," she replies softly.

"That's alright; I still haven't forgiven you for…" I'm too tired to think of a witty response, "well, when I think of something, you're not getting forgiven."

"Oh I guarantee you'll forgive me, when I run my tongue over your…" she grins at me, and whispers into my ear exactly what she'd like to do to me.

There's a sudden flurry of activity when Nick and Warrick scurry into the room, looking bright eyed with suspiciously flushed faces. Catherine and I spring apart, and plaster a smile on our faces, but if either of them have noticed we were so close, they decide not to comment on it. Nick attempts to speak, but bursts out laughing, as Warrick stands there, looking thoroughly amused

"You've seen it then," Catherine says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Oh god, did we ever!" Nick says breathlessly. "You gotta come see this."

I suppose I technically should feel guilty about putting my boss in a dress, filming him, and handing out copies of said film to his subordinates, as they damn near pee themselves laughing. I don't though; in fact I think its pretty damn funny. Catherine doesn't seem to have any reservations about it either, since she's giggling away at Nick's infectious laugh.

"Come see what?" I ask, as we jump down off the counter, and follow them to the table.

Warrick is already setting his laptop up, and a minute or two later after it boots up, he clicks a few keys, and turns it so we can see the screen.

"Oh my god," Catherine says, eyes as wide as saucers as she realises what she's seeing around the same time as I do.

"What did you guys do?" I squeak, knowing that I'm dead meat. But even if I'm lucky enough to survive, I'll be testing rat piss in a lab out in the boonies for the rest of my life.

"Please tell me you didn't," Catherine seems oddly torn between laughing her head off, and being horrified.

There, in all his glory, surrounded by the halo of a spotlight is Grissom, on the homepage of a website called LadyGiselle .com. Oh my god what the hell have they done? He's standing there looking like a broke-ass version of Shirley Bassey, as he sings Hey Big Spender. The reason I know that is because I'm the one who took the photograph, for the very reason it's displayed on the page, because he does indeed look like a broke-ass version of Shirley Bassey. I have no doubt this is their idea of a joke, but Grissom is going to kill Catherine and I stone dead. If we're lucky, it might stop there, if not? Well, we could easily be stuck in a glass jar in a corner of his office for the next forty years.

Somebody, and we won't mention any names here - cough, Nick and Warrick, cough - has been very busy indeed. As we navigate through the site, numerous artistic poses of Grissom cover the pages and I cringe when I see they've used the photo of him provocatively thrusting his boobies at the audience. MP3's of his songs, and the video of his performance, have been made available for download, and anyone wishing to purchase his next album will be required to part with $13.99 of their hard earned cash. It gets worse when I see a news ticker at the top of the page displaying a list of tour dates. It would seem today's hottest news is Giselle's next performance, when she makes her debut in New York, tomorrow night at 7:30pm. Catherine clicks on the guestbook, and I'm surprised when I see in excess of over two hundred signatures, ranging from messages of support to what seem like lusty threats of getting into Grissom's knickers. Oh god, what an evil thought that is…At this point, I'm filled with sheer horror. Either they went to a lot of trouble to make this look authentic, or they've done the absolutely unthinkable, and it's actually real.

"Hey guys," Greg enters the room, leering at Catherine and I as usual, as he heads to the coffee machine.

"Greggo, you gotta come see this," Nick says, with a barely suppressed shit eating grin.

"It's going down a storm," Warrick informs us, "Grissom will be happy to know he's made five G's from ticket sales, in the first hour the site was up and running."

"That's just great, we're all dead," I say, as I begin to wonder whether I've actually got time to write a will, and make sure I leave my collection of lesbian books and movies to Catherine's mother, just as a friendly parting gesture you understand.

"Grissom won't kill you, Sara. He loves you too much," Nick laughs, thinking he's funny.

"Shut up, frat boy. When did you find time to do this?"

"Our suspicious circs turned out to be an open and shut case," Nick replies, still looking pleased with himself.

Well that's just fine, because when I'm dead, I'm gonna haunt his ass for a really long time. Warrick's too.

"It is fake right?" Catherine asks, daring either of them to tell her otherwise, "because if it isn't, not only will you be out of a job, I'll make sure you're both singing soprano."

Oh that's good, she's not happy either, so it's not just me who's got something to live for then.

"Relax, it isn't really real," Warrick pats her on the arm, "and nobody can see it but us."

"Better hope not, because if Grissom finds out, we're all completely dead," I make this point again. Obsessed with living, much?

"He's supposed to see it, that's the point," Warrick grins wickedly, his green eyes crinkling as he smiles. "You thought we'd see him dragged up on video, and actually let it go by? Hell no."

"What you guys looking at?" Greg stashes his secret bag of coffee away, and checks around like a neurotic squirrel to make sure nobody was watching, before he leans over Warrick to get a good look at the screen.

"Giselle," Warrick elaborates, a grin spreading across his face as he watches Nick burst out laughing again.

"Oh she was hot," Greg looks dreamy. "And I do mean seriously hot. That DVD you gave me was brilliant, how did you guys find out about her?"

I gape at him. Nope, he isn't acting, the dopey look on his face is normal. The idiot didn't recognise who it was. "Greg, wasn't she a little bit old for you?"

"No, I like mature women, just like you and Cath," he grins, as Catherine shoots him an icy glare.

"Wasn't she a little on the big boned side for you?" Nick asks, with a snort of laughter. "I thought you liked 'em blonde and delicate, and she had legs like an NFL player."

"Don't be so…" he waves his hand round trying to think of the right word, "discriminatory. There are plenty of women out there who don't fit the mould, doesn't make them any less beautiful. I might look into seeing one of her shows, is she here in Vegas any time soon? I really could do with seeing her assets close up."

Greg's perfectly intelligent when it comes to work, but you flash anything vaguely female shaped at him, and he regresses to being a cave man, and dragging his knuckles along the floor.

"Oh dear god," Catherine says, burying her face in her hands and leaning against me, as she laughs at Greg.

Grissom suddenly ambles into the room, as I jump and damn near have to scrape myself off the ceiling. He looks as if he's going to give us a lecture about hanging around the lab, when we should be out working. But throws his files down on the table instead, and puts his hands on his hips as he looks around the room.

"Geez, when they did they last clean in here? It's filthy," he goes around collecting paper cups, and wadded napkins, throwing them in the trash. "I really gotta talk to Ecklie about keeping this place cleaner, it depresses me. Remember to clean up after yourselves guys, cleanliness is an absolute must."

I swear to god, the minute he starts checking behind our ears, and asking if we've got clean underwear on before we go out on assignment, is the minute I do him in, even if the entire lab is watching.

"How are the cases proceeding? Anything probative?" he asks, as Warrick and Nick are barely able to keep their laughter in check. "What's wrong with you two?"

"Nothing," Nick coughs a little to mask a laugh. "Just discussing our next vacation. I'm getting a bit sick of Paradise, and I've never been to me, so I might just try it."

"He's not exactly a Big Spender, though," Warrick chips in, biting down on his lip as he smiles.

"Don't say that, Warrick. You should Stand by Your Man," Catherine replies casually, trying, and failing to stifle a laugh.

"Definitely, even if he is a Dancing Queen," I reply, finishing off the list of all four songs Grissom performed that night, figuring I might as well have a little fun if I'm about to die.

"Hey Griss, you should come see this," Greg, the helpful little soul that he is, has just signed our collective death warrant.

He steps forward with an eager smile on his face, probably thinking it's something to do with work. Until he stops dead in his tracks, the colour draining from his face. A distinctly unmanly semi-scream escapes from his lips, and I retreat to a corner of the room to watch the drama unfold, as Catherine follows me. Nick and Warrick jump out of their seats, start waving their hands, and shaking their asses like Grissom did on stage. Greg sits down with a frown on his face, as he watches them. He knows he's missed something, but can't quite figure out what.

"Oh sweetie pie, you were marvelous," Nick leans forward, and claps his hands in a very effeminate manner. "You have the voice of an angel, sweeter than my Momma's apple pie."

"Oh yes you were, Miss Thing," Warrick clicks his fingers out in front of him, mirroring Nick's mincing. "You had that audience eating out of your hand baby, yes you did, mmmhmm."

They lean forward, each kissing Grissom noisily on the cheek, and pretending to swoon over him.

"What's with those guys?" Greg nods his head at them.

"Greg Sanders, meet Giselle," Catherine gleefully points at Grissom, as Greg's face goes beet red.

He shakes his head, as if caught up in a terrible nightmare. "Surely not…"

"Greg here," Catherine jerks her thumb in his direction, "thinks Giselle is a chunk of burning love. He seriously has the hots for you, Grissom."

"No way, no fu…that was you?!" Greg jumps out of his seat, and begins flapping. "Of course I knew that, I just wanted you to all think I was totally into him, you know for a laugh."

"Yeah yeah man," Warrick shakes his head, thinking this is hugely funny. "Just keep telling yourself that, and maybe you'll sleep at night."

"Greg," Grissom folds his arms in a ladylike fashion, leaning slightly to one side with a wink, "have you got a kiss for Giselle?"

I don't think I've ever heard such a high pitched squeal come from somebody that wasn't female, before. Greg's face burns an even brighter red, and he takes several steps backwards, as he hides behind Catherine and I. Grissom has surprised me as much as everyone else; by the way he's continuing to play around with us. I thought by now he might've wigged out and given all of us free autopsies.

"Maybe later," Greg's voice comes out several octaves higher than normal. "Much, much, later."

Okay that went well; I think Catherine and I are off the hook, so it's probably safe to start breathing again.

"Catherine Willows, Sara Sidle, I won't forget this. You two are in big trouble!" Grissom looks sternly at us.

Oh well, it was a nice thought while it lasted.

"Ah come on, Gil," Catherine complains. "We showed 'em the video, we didn't tell them to put your squeaky ass singing on the net!"

"My voice isn't squeaky, Peaches said I was perfect," Grissom looks affronted. "Although, I do think that picture on the homepage shows my ass in a less than favourable light. Do you think it's possible we could fade that bit out a little?"

"Grissom, it's a computer, not a time machine," I giggle, but immediately shut up when he glares at me.

"I want it removed," Grissom orders them. "Maybe a little later on though, I'd look to look through it first."

"Quit lusting over yourself, its fake. If it wasn't, you'd be on stage tomorrow night at Carnegie Hall," Catherine chuckles, as he blushes.

"I have a special assignment for the two of you; decomp in a barrel," he grins evilly, "and judging by Brass' voice on the phone, it's been there a while."

"That's not fair. We weren't involved, they did all of this on their own," Catherine says grumpily.

The boys begin snickering at this, but stop when he looks pointedly at them. "Judging by this, you two have had far too much time on your hands tonight. Catherine and Sara have two active cases, why don't you take those, and let them get on with the decomp."

"Damn, you don't get away with anything in this place," Nick rubs the back of his neck, with a grin.

"That's what ya get for being a comedian, cowboy," Catherine winks at him. "Good luck finding the rest of the body, all we got so far is a hand that looks more like a chew toy."

I hide a grin at her little white lie, and look at my watch. "If you hurry, you might just catch the autopsy on your second case."

"Yeah, well good luck with your human soup in a barrel. Oh and remember, get a good deep look around in there, the teeth usually sink to the bottom," Nick says, with a hint of evil in his tone.

"Would you like us to stop by the market, and get you girls some lemons?" Warrick teases, folding his arms and grinning at us.

"We'll even offer to come and help you girls out in the shower," Nick wiggles his eyebrows at us.

"Sara and I, will be having too much fun together to let you join in," Catherine doesn't miss a beat, and grins wickedly as the boy's mouths hang open.

"Are we all done, kiddies?" Grissom asks, having difficulty tearing his eyes away from his web page. "I'm running a crime lab here, not a high school. I think it's time we got back to work."

"I should probably help Warrick and Nick, they'll be really busy," Greg says, plainly hopeful that he'll get a reprieve.

"No, I need you working with me. Come now, Gregory," Grissom gestures toward him with a finger. "We've still got a busy time ahead of us my boy, and I must make use of your body."

He flounces out of the room like Bette Davis, and Greg looks totally horrified. "Shit, you guys turned Grissom into a woman!"

Neither of us is laughing, since it could well be true. Dr Miller is going to kill us both.

***

"Hey sexy," I knock on Catherine's office door, shortly after 8am, and smile as she takes a moment to focus on me in her glasses.

She removes them as she smiles at me, and I instantly wish she hadn't, because those glasses do wonderful things to my hormones. "What can I do for you, honey?"

"Whatever takes your fancy, or if you're so inclined, go kill Greg for me. The little rat is driving me nuts trying to prove he doesn't like Grissom. But first I need your John Hancock," I say, as I hand a report over.

"Been a while since I was asked for my autograph," she teases, as she signs the report I just gave her.

"Well, if you ever write that book, I want a signed first copy," I joke as she flashes me a flirty smile.

"Memoirs of a showgirl?" she grimaces. "Be the quickest way of killing my mother, I know that much."

"Greg too," I laugh. "Wanna get started on it tonight?"

"Why don't we just get drunk and fool around? It's more fun," she looks up at me, raising her eyebrows and gazing at me with her beautiful blue eyes.

"I'm free any time you want me, sweetheart," I say, as my heart thumps the way it always does around her.

"Ah well, about that…" she smiles at me, in a way that tells me she's got something up her sleeve, and it isn't just her arm.

She closes her office door, and joins me on the other side of her desk, taking hold of my hand, before pushing me down into a chair and sitting on my lap. She runs her fingers through my hair, and begins nibbling on my earlobe as a certain part of anatomy thinks all of my birthdays, and Christmases have come at once.

Her lips leave a trail of fire across my skin, as she kisses her way across the base of my throat, her tongue moistening my skin, and teeth grazing gently enough not to leave a mark. I let my hands roam, sliding underneath her cotton shirt to the warm skin underneath, my fingers trailing up and down the silky smooth skin of her back. The kiss deepens, her velvety tongue sliding across my own, as my hand finds its way to her breast, my thumb gently caressing skin clad in lace.

"Oh god, Sara," she says breathlessly, the arousal in her voice sending red hot jolts of electricity through my stomach. "Just wait till I get you home."

"What are you going to do to me?" I ask against her lips, my thumb rubbing across her nipple again. The sharp intake of her breath lets me know she's enjoying it as much as I am.

"I want to touch, taste you, hold you," she runs her tongue across my bottom lip. "I want to…fuck."

"That's the general idea," I grin, knowing the expletive was due to the fact my cell is ringing.

"Shut up, and answer it," she says, with obvious frustration.

"Sidle. Oh hey Brass, no I haven't told her yet. I've only just caught up with her…yeah, we'll be there in twenty," I snap the phone shut. "He's bringing the decomp's brother in for questioning, and he wants us over at PD."

"What are you doing this weekend?" Catherine changes the subject, her expression going from thoughtful, to looking as if she's up to something in ten seconds flat.

"Oh god, what did you have in mind, and why are you looking evil about it?" I raise an eyebrow at her.

She chuckles at this, and runs her hand down my left bicep, as she practically drools over me. "I need a strong pair of arms, actually. Yours specifically."

"Again?" I sigh dramatically with a grin, pleased as hell she's drooling over me, it's exactly what I was aiming for.

She rubs her hands together, and gives me a wicked grin of her own. "I was just going to ask you to help me re-decorate my daughter's bedroom this weekend, for which there could be _huge_ rewards, but if you're too busy…"

I groan, as I seem to remember something mentioned a couple of weeks ago about furniture too. "This is you blackmailing me into helping you re-decorate, and put together like a ton of flat-packs that came with Chinese instructions, isn't it?"

"Yep," she nods instantly.

"You're shameless," I shake my head, with a smile as I run my fingertip gently down her throat towards the top button of her shirt.

"God, tell me something I didn't already know," she groans softly at the contact, and slips her arms around my shoulders. "I thought it would be good if the three of us spent some time together this weekend. And of course, when Lindsey goes to bed, there'll be just you and me…"

I'd be happy to, I like Lindsey, she's a smart kid, and she's great fun to be around. Plus, I get away with doing all the stupid things I enjoy, and get to blame it on entertaining the poor kid, how cool is that? Mind you, I think Catherine stopped believing that one, when she found out Sindy was kicking Ken's ass for coming onto her girlfriend Barbie in a nightclub, when Lindsey wasn't even in the room.

"All right but…you provide the beer and I get to choose the music. None of that crap you listen to in the car."

She looks scandalised. "Crap? It's classic 80's music! You have no taste whatsoever."

"Yeah that's true, look who I'm dating," I grin, and duck out of the way as she cuffs me around the ear with a nearby file. "We should get going, Brass is waiting for us."

"Before we do…" she leans down, and threads her fingers through my hair as she captures my lips again.

There's a tap on the door and we spring apart, knowing work isn't exactly the best place to be conducting a relationship, especially not when we're supposed to be investigating our case.

"Come in," she says, after we've straightened ourselves up.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt you CSI Willows," one of the receptionists from the front desk pops her heard around the door. "Your husband is here to see you, he says it's urgent."

"Where is he?" she asks, the stress immediately becoming etched upon her face again.

"I'm here," he rudely pushes the door further open, causing the receptionist to hastily take a step back.

"I'll be getting back to work," she says quickly, before scurrying off.

"How the hell did you talk your way in?" Catherine asks with a look of surprise, which quickly turns to one of anger.

He stands there, looking as rough as a badger's ass, and wearing the same clothes he was yesterday, and even from this distance I can smell that he's been drinking. It's hardly the behaviour of a man who should be trying to convince the mother of his child, that he's responsible enough to have continued access.

"Told the woman at the front desk I wanted to see my wife, she brought me here," he shrugs, and turns to me. "Hey, you mind?"

"Sorry. Listen, I'll wait for you outside," I say to Catherine, not wanting to be too far away just in case he decides to let his hands do the talking as I know he has done in the past.

"You don't have to leave, Sara, I don't want any secrets between us," she takes hold of my arm, and rests against the edge of her desk beside me. "Eddie, if you got anything to say to me, say it, 'cause I'm waiting to go out on a case here."

Eddie glances at her, and then at me, in a way I don't much like. "I'd like to say it without an audience."

"I wasn't aware you had one," Catherine shrugs, while I feel distinctly uncomfortable because I really do get the impression I'm intruding on something, at least as far as he's concerned.

"I want to spend time with Lindsey this weekend."

"Can't all get what we want, so tough shit. Come on Saz, lets go," she pulls me along after her, and I can't help grinning at the use of my nickname, which he catches and doesn't like.

"You can't stop me seeing my daughter, Catherine," he follows us out of the office, and down the hallway, plainly not about to let it drop.

"I have never stopped you seeing her before, Eddie, but when you pull a stunt like you pulled last week, I'm gonna think twice about it, so for god sake change the record," she shifts her scene case to her other hand, as she powers down the hallway, so she can gesture more effectively at him.

"I couldn't give a fuck what you think about it, Cath, I want to see my daughter and if I can't, there'll be trouble," he grabs hold of her arm, and whirls her around to face him.

"When you get your act together, then I'll let you see her. But till then, stay the hell away from us both," she pulls her arm back, as her eyes blaze a bright cold blue.

He's beginning to piss me off, but I'm trying to keep out of it at all costs, otherwise he might lose a few teeth, and I might end up with a lawsuit against me which is only going to make things more difficult for Catherine. But he only has to touch her like that once more, and I'll make sure his nuts get lodged up his nostrils.

"Catherine, please," his voice cracks, as he rubs at his heavily stubbled chin. "I lost you and that was bad enough, but please don't make me lose my daughter too. She's all I have left."

"Go and tell it to somebody who cares," her tone is cold but I can tell she's beginning to waver.

I think she'd still prefer to give him the free vasectomy, but she knows Lindsey shouldn't lose her father just because he's an asshole.

"Please don't take my baby away from me. I know I was a lousy husband, and I've been a lousy father, but Linds means the world to me, and aside from marrying you, she was the only thing I did right," he rubs his fingers through his untidy hair, and across his face, before settling tired eyes on her.

"This is your last chance," Catherine's voice cuts through the air like ice. "You start screwing around again, and I swear to god you'll regret it more than you ever thought you could. You can pick her up Saturday afternoon, and take her to school on Monday. If that works out, we'll try to come to some sort of arrangement over regular visits."

"Thanks Cath, thank you," he reaches forward to her, but thinks twice about it when she flashes him a look that tells him to keep away. "I promise you, I won't give you a reason not to trust me. I'm turning over a new leaf, really I am."

"I've heard that before Eddie, and you never change, April being a case in point. I mean it, this is your last chance, don't mess it up."

"I won't, and thank you," he flashes a smile in her direction, and a glare in mine. "I'll see you on Saturday."

I watch as he walks away. "You think he means it?"

"No, the man's lower than a snake's balls," she shakes her head, a humourless laugh escaping from her lips. "Eddie can't help but mess up; it's the only thing he's any good at. Give him enough time, and he'll screw everyone around him too."

Her words left me with a funny feeling in my stomach, they seemed oddly prophetic, and although I wanted to believe everything was going to be okay, even I wasn't nuts enough to carry on believing it could be that easy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

By Saturday afternoon, I'm covered in paint and having the time of my life. Not that I ever need a reason to kid around, but looking after Lindsey and Jeremy for the day has given me the perfect excuse to go the extra mile, and become a total fruit loop. The kids love it, they think I'm off my trolley and they could well be right. Thankfully, Catherine left them in charge of me while she went out with Nancy, and it's a good job she has because I need some serious supervision.

I was a little nervous at first, thinking I wouldn't know how to act around the kids, and that they'd see right through me. So, instead of trying to be something I'm not, I acted as nuts as I do around Catherine lately, and it seems to have done the trick. Which is just as well really, because Catherine might have come home to find me tied to a kitchen chair, with the kids laughing and waving a chainsaw at me.

Actually that's not such a bad idea, I should try that just to see the look on her face when she got home. Having said that, it could backfire, she might just take advantage of my captive state and turn the chainsaw on me herself. But I highly doubt that, because there's a sort of unspoken agreement between us that tonight is the night we're going to get intimate for the first time, and I really think she'd want to get laid before she went ahead with murdering me.

Throughout the day, she's occasionally called up to speak to me, and give me a progress report on her whereabouts, which I thought was nice. In fact, I was over the moon that she'd want to talk to me so badly when she wasn't with me, that she'd feel the need to call me so often. The last time she called me was just about an hour ago, and it left me grinning like an idiot. But it also made me question one of life's mysteries. What is it with women and cell phones?

The minute they leave a shop, they have to call and tell you. Even when you're in the bathroom with your pants around your knees, and trying to use the facilities in peace, they still want to chatter away. Then ten minutes later they'll ring up and tell you that they're about to enter another shop, and heaven forbid they actually buy anything in there because you know that will be another twenty minute conversation on the subject. And don't even get me started on grocery shopping. Actually, that's another mystery that's been driving me nuts since Wednesday. Why do women take so long to shop?

I took Catherine grocery shopping for the first time on Wednesday, and she took so long cruising up and down the aisles, that I seriously began to wonder if I was going to croak somewhere in-between the dairy section and the Cheerio's. And while I'm on the subject, why is it women think the people they're with can never successfully steer a supermarket trolley on their own without their intervention? Why do they have to grab hold of the end of it, and lead you around the supermarket like you've suddenly developed cataracts or a nasty fog bank has just drifted in from the seafood counter, that only_ they_ can see through?

Catherine even has a system for packing the trunk…okay just a minor rant on this one, and I can see the logic in it but I usually don't give a rat's ass where the shopping is placed. I've never had to, since two bags doesn't constitute a whole load right? Whereas, Catherine buys enough to feed the 82nd airborne for a month, and has a procedure so that nothing gets bruised or crushed. Geez, I love the woman to distraction, even though she doesn't know it yet, but I think she's even more OCD than I am. I wouldn't change it for the world though; I'm completely crazy about her.

In any case, after the week she's had with Eddie still being a pain and calling up almost constantly to speak to Lindsey, I figured she really deserved a break. I hate seeing her looking so worried all the time, she's constantly wound up, and she keeps looking at Lindsey as if she's afraid that she'll disappear again. So, I said I'd look after the kids while she went for lunch and a spot of shopping with Nancy, so that she could relax for a change. It took some persuasion on my part, but she finally gave in when I reassured her that we'd have more than enough time alone tonight. Plus, she isn't here to see me panic spectacularly in the moments I think 'oh god, Catherine is going to service my lady bits tonight' which is a bonus.

"Jeez Jer, come on," Lindsey huffs. "My dad's coming to pick me up later, and if you paint any slower, I'll be in high school."

"Oh yeah? Well you paint like a girl," he shoots back, shaking his head at her.

"That could be because I am a girl, you big nimrod!" she says, rolling her eyes.

She's definitely her mother's daughter, and I'm not even going to ask whether she should be using a word like nimrod or not at her age. I suspect not, but that's Catherine's job, I'll just giggle away like the responsible adult I am.

"Typical woman, not happy unless her mouth is moving," Jeremy tuts, with an air of sufferance about him, that could only have come from a much older male.

"Who did you hear saying that?" I ask him, desperately trying not laugh at the fact that the battle of the sexes evidently starts at a very early age.

"My dad says it to my Mom when he's watching Football, and she won't stop talking. But then they end up laughing and doing that kissy stuff, its disgusting," he makes a face, as he dabs more paint on his brush.

"Nobody is ever going to kiss you, bucket head," Lindsey giggles.

"I wouldn't want anyone to kiss me, especially not somebody like you, troll face," he laughs as Lindsey puts her hands on her hips in a pissed off gesture.

"Are you guys always this slow? Michelangelo didn't take this long to paint the Sistine Chapel," I finish the last little bit of my wall, and wipe my hands on a rag, as they both stick their tongues out at me.

"Michelangelo didn't have you to distract him," Catherine grins, as she leans against the doorframe, with Nancy at her side.

God she's beautiful, the afternoon sunlight framing her head like a halo, as her beautiful blue eyes twinkle at me. It's enough to set my heart racing, just as it always does whenever she walks into a room. I'm glad to see that she looks relaxed, her face happy and smiling, the slump of her shoulders absent.

"Oh look kids, its Ren and Stimpy," they giggle at this, thinking it's really funny, especially when Catherine and Nancy begin arguing over which one of them is Ren.

"Hey, lets get you two cleaned up," Nancy ushers the kids out of the room with a wink you could see from space, leaving me with the feeling I'm missing something.

"You look so sexy covered in paint," Catherine husks, as she runs her hands down my front.

"Do I indeed?" I grin, knowing she wants a kiss, and I'll be happy to comply.

She looks up at me with a shy smile. "I can't concentrate around you; you're so beautiful that it drives me crazy."

"Mmhmm, like last night when you couldn't concentrate on what Brass was trying to tell you," I chuckle at the memory.

"I couldn't help it, seeing you dressed up in your overalls, and climbing around in that car turned me on like you wouldn't believe," she sighs softly, and presses herself against me.

"Now you know how I feel every time I'm near you. I just about died when you were dusting for prints, and your shirt rode up. You have the sexiest bellybutton ever," I groan slightly at just the thought of it.

She moves closer to me, and rests her lips against my ear. "Whenever you're near me, I just wanna rip your clothes off, and kiss every last inch of you."

"Oh Jesus, Cath," my legs buckle slightly as I hear her laughing seductively, knowing exactly what she's doing to me.

"I bought a little something for you when I went shopping."

"Ooh really, what did I get?"

"Sexy underwear, wrapped around yours truly, for tonight," she replies, knowing I'll be even more distracted now than I normally am. "Oh and I did something else besides shopping, that you might be interested in."

"What would that be, baby?" I try and tear my thoughts away from the underwear, being the big pervy beast that I am.

"It might seem a bit soon and everything…" she pauses, looking unsure of how to word whatever it is that she's trying to tell me.

"Go on, sweetheart," I smile at her reassuringly.

"I filed for divorce, properly this time," she bites her lip. "Even though its early days, you and I might be serious at some point, and that's part of the reason why I want this divorce. If I'm going to be with you, I don't want my past standing in the way of our future."

I can't help grinning like a fruitcake, because this must mean that she's already pretty serious about me, and suddenly, Nancy's behaviour makes sense. "I think its definite things will get serious between us, if only to piss your mom off."

She laughs at this, knowing as well as I do that the only reason Lily has been by every single day since she met me, is to see whether I've actually gone home yet. I have, but only to pick up extra clothes, because Catherine and I haven't spent a night apart for the last two weeks and I don't think either of us wants to.

"Hey girls, you want some juice?" Nancy shouts up the stairs.

"Yes please!" Catherine leans back in, and catches my lips in a smouldering kiss. "So, you got plans for tonight?"

"I do indeed. I believe we've got the perfect date movie, which we'll watch from the comfort of your sofa, before I ravish you senseless," I lean in to kiss her again, pulling her closer, and pressing the full length of my body against her.

"God, would you two put each other down? You're gonna make the rest of us jealous," Nancy grins at us from the doorway.

"Thanks sis," Catherine leans forward to take the drinks from her. "Aww isn't Jeff fulfilling his husbandly duties?"

"He keeps claiming he has a headache," she grins.

"I would too, you big nympho," Catherine giggles as Nancy flips her the finger.

"Three times a week isn't so much," she defends herself. "We used to be at it every day of the week."

"God, it must run in the family," I dramatically put a hand to my forehead as Nancy howls with laughter.

"Shut up or you won't be getting any at all," Catherine grins wickedly.

"Would you like a seat M'lady?" I ask, sticking my tongue out at Catherine, as I carry a chair toward Nancy.

"I'd love one, thank you," Nancy grins as she sits down. "The service in this place is fantastic."

"So is my servant," Catherine replies, as I grab a seat for her too. "Thanks babe, I'll be back in a minute, I just need to get changed."

"So, you guys had a good day?" I take a seat of my own, and a sip of my juice.

"It's been great, we don't usually have the time to go shopping together, so it's nice that you took the kids for us," she smiles. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, they're adorable and they worked their little butts off in here today. Unlike Catherine who'll do anything to get out of painting," I joke.

"Yeah, you should probably keep an eye on her for that," Nancy chuckles, and turns toward the door, raising her voice on purpose. "Cath's got a habit of delegating."

"God, don't I know it. She's a pain in the ass at work, and I thought she'd have a softer side at home, but she's beginning to let all that angelic shit slip now I'm getting to know her properly," I play along, knowing Catherine is listening.

Nancy bursts out laughing. "Could be about time to back out kiddo, she's hell on wheels let me tell ya."

"I did consider it but I love a challenge. Any tips for dealing with her?"

"Don't back down, don't show any fear, and no eye contact whatsoever if you're even thinking about distorting the truth, because she can spot a lie like a fart in a bathtub," she replies, while I hold my ribs from laughing so much.

"HEY!" Catherine finally shouts through from her bedroom. "You're meant to be entertaining each other in my absence, not discussing my faults."

"Same thing, Cath!" Nancy shouts back with a grin.

"And you're meant to be changing your clothes, not eavesdropping on my conversation with your sister," I shout back with mock severity.

"How else am I going to know when you're drilling her for information?" the amusement in her voice is apparent.

"How else am I going to find things out unless I drill her?" I banter back.

"I catch you drilling my sister, and you're in serious trouble, especially as you're meant to be sleeping with me," she enters the bedroom grinning wickedly, as I go a lovely shade of tomato red.

"You'll get herself into serious trouble one of these days," Nancy laughs, as she looks fondly at her sister.

"That's exactly what I'm aiming for, but Sara won't let me cause her any," Catherine replies as she giggles.

"You cause me plenty of trouble, and you know it," I stand up, and kiss her on the forehead.

"Where do you think you're going?" Catherine grabs hold of my hand and pulls me back, as she flashes a smile at me. "I'm not done embarrassing you yet."

"I need to get changed, and make a start on Lindsey's furniture, or she won't have a bedroom to come back to on Monday."

"Gee, Catherine you fell on your feet when you started dating Sara," her eyes twinkle at us both as she smiles. "What else do you do?"

"Besides being an absolute angel?" I grin back. "Oh you know, painting and decorating, housework, laundry, shopping, cooking, driving the munchkin to and from school, and chasing around after Catherine wherever she happens to be. Even after all that, I still find time to fight crime."

"Oh god, anyone would think you were rapidly approaching sainthood, Sidle," Catherine pretends to stick her fingers down her throat. "You been given angel status, yet?"

"Not quite, but I could take you to heaven a time or two," I quip and watch with satisfaction as her face goes bright red, but she should have figured I'd get her back for the 'drilling her sister' comment.

"What I wanna know is, when can I sign up for a girl like that?" Nancy asks, grinning at the look on the Catherine's face.

"Probably shortly after Jeff signs your divorce papers," Catherine grins.

***

I scratch my head and look at the diagram in my hands, and have to admit that Chinese isn't my strong point. In fact for all I know, this could be the corresponding lyric sheet to the version of Forever in Blue Jeans, which US Airlines delighted in playing for me on the phone last week. The problem is, while everything looks to be the right shape on paper, it doesn't quite match up with the real thing, which is currently resting on Cath's living room floor.

It looks a bit backwards, unless I cross my eyes, and then it sort of seems the right shape. So not only do I need to learn to speak Chinese, I also need to get my eyes to point in different directions at the same time, and not even beer will do that to me. What I want to know is, the pieces have little identification stickers on them in English, so where are the English instructions? Who's in charge of shit like that? And why is it you never get English instructions, with Chinese stickers on the parts? How do they do that?

"I'm telling you, part 23A goes into that hole there," Catherine says, as she points out the hole in question.

"It does not," I say exasperated. "If you did that, the whole thing would be the wrong shape, and it won't fit anyway."

"Look at the diagram, it's this bit here, that has to fit into that bit there," she insists, from where she's kneeling next to me on the floor, while Nancy, Lindsey and Jeremy giggle from the sofa.

"Since when can you read Chinese? It does not, I repeat does not, fit in there."

"I don't have to read Chinese to look at the pictures," she throws her hands up in the air, and gives me the same look she always does when she thinks I'm being awkward.

"That's what she said about her forensic textbooks in college," I say with a giggle as Catherine thumps me on the leg, and holds a threatening finger up at me.

"Ooo Sara, you're in trouble," Lindsey chuckles evilly, sounding so much like her mother. "Mom's gonna tell you off any minute now."

"I will if she doesn't do as she's told, Linds," Catherine replies. "Sara, listen to me, just slide that bit in the hole."

"It won't fit!" I repeat, grumpily.

"Sara Sidle, take that bit and shove it in there!" she orders, with a raised eyebrow.

I do, and the fucking thing fits.

"I am a genius," she sighs with an angelic look, but somebody oughta tell her that her halo is currently resting around her ankles. "I told you what hole needed jamming, you should have listened."

"Some line in foreplay you got there, Cath," Nancy grins. "No wonder she hasn't drilled you yet."

"Shut up or I'll tell Jeff you were after my girlfriend," Catherine laughs along with her sister as my mouth falls open, because the kids are sitting there while the pair of them are misbehaving.

"Catherine!" I say in a strangled voice, even though I know the kids don't really get what they're going on about. It was the 'girlfriend' bit that worries me, because of Lindsey.

"Relax," she waves it off. "We already spoke about us dating, didn't we Linds?"

"Yep, and I said it was okay," she nods with a smile.

"When did this take place, and why does nobody tell me anything?" I pout, looking extremely adorable I might add, but I think Catherine stopped falling for that look days ago when she realised I use it indiscriminately.

"Linds and I talked about it on Monday, I wanted to explain it properly before anybody else did," she says, as she looks pointedly at me, and the penny drops that she wanted her to know before Eddie told her.

"Are you sure you're okay with it, Lindsey? The last thing we want to do is make you unhappy," I ask, because her happiness is important, and her opinion matters more than anyone else we tell.

"It's cool. Mommy is happy with you, and if she's happy then I'm happy too. You're really cool Sara, and I like you being here, its fun," she grins, in a way that reminds me of Catherine so much.

"Well said, kiddo," Nancy ruffles her hair with a smile.

If only everything in life were that simple, it makes me sometimes wish we could all see the world that way, and I guess if we did, then life would be a hell of a lot nicer at times. Still, Eddie did us a favour in a roundabout way, Catherine especially, because she and Lindsey are getting along again. It's a bonus that she's accepted me dating her mother; because it was one of the things I was worried about.

"Oh so you like me, huh? My evil plan worked," I stand up and pluck her off the couch, tickling her ribs and raining kisses on her face as she giggles, and tries to fight me off.

"Jer! Help me you big goof!" Lindsey says, as she dodges another round of rib tickles.

Jeremy shoots off the sofa, more than happy to join in, and I let them wrestle me to the floor, and climb all over me as I pretend to beg for mercy. I actually don't have to pretend for very long since Lindsey's elbow ends up jammed down my airway and Jeremy's heavily booted foot seems to have strayed toward my sensitive bits, where I'm sure it's left a treadmark.

"Stop, I give in! You guys win," I groan, and the kids flop against me giggling and high-fiving each other.

"Now that Sara's half dead, covered in bruises and everyone knows we're dating, I'd like to ask if everybody is happy now?" Catherine asks, her face glowing as we grin at each other.

"Not really."

My head snaps up to see Eddie standing just outside of the room, and he doesn't look like a happy camper. I'm not quite sure how much he heard, so I don't know whether he's angry about what Lindsey said, or because Catherine and I are together, or because of the way I was fooling around with the kids. I'm going to take a wild guess at this point, and say it's probably all three.

Catherine isn't exactly a happy bunny either; her expression would give nothing away unless you knew what to look for. Lips drawn tightly, forehead slightly furrowed, eyes as hard and cold as ice. Yep, if I were Eddie, I'd be surreptitiously donning bulletproof underpants because I know where Catherine keeps her gun, and she looks as if she would have no qualms about using it on him.

"You ever heard of knocking?" Catherine snaps, and gets to her feet.

"I shouldn't have to knock at my own house," he retorts, anger plainly visible in muddy eyes that look as if they've seen too many sleepless boozy nights, lately.

"This isn't your house, I kicked your ass out, and you don't pay the mortgage. You never actually did," she replies, as Nancy and I shoot a look at each other.

"Whatever. I came to pick up my daughter."

"Linds, go get your stuff, honey," Catherine makes the effort to smile, "Will you go help her for me please, Jeremy?"

"Sure, Aunty Cath," he smiles, pleased at being asked to help, and runs off after his cousin.

Eddie waits until the kids are out of earshot, and then he starts off again. "No wonder you wanted me out of the way, can't have her take my place if you don't divorce me right?"

"Don't start on that Eddie, I'm dating Sara and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it," Catherine sighs and folds her arms. "I filed for divorce because it needed to be done, and I've been trying to do it for the last two years. You've had plenty of time to get used to the idea, and I'd be a lot happier if we could agree to get along for Lindsey's sake."

"Don't expect me to put up with her," he points at me, his anger going up a notch. "Not when she's trying to take my family away from me. You saw how Lindsey is with her."

"Yeah I did, and I'm pleased about that," Catherine responds. "I want her to get used to having Sara around, because she's going to be here a lot more often from now on."

"I do not want that dyke anywhere near my daughter, or you, for that matter because you are still my wife!"

"Eddie, I swear to god," Catherine snaps at him through clenched teeth, as Nancy puts a restraining hand on her arm.

"Don't sweetheart," Nancy says to her sister in a soothing voice. "Don't let him get to you, because that's exactly what he wants."

"Nancy, shut the fuck up. You don't know nothin'," Eddie says rudely.

"Just back off, Eddie" Nancy shoots him an icy glare. "I know you and Cath were over long before Sara arrived on the scene. Now pack it in, or you'll end up scaring the kids."

"Not half as much as you scare me, Nancy," he jokes, thinking he's funny. "I guess you never did know when to butt out of your sister's life."

"I wouldn't have had to butt in, in the first place, if she hadn't married an asshole," she retorts, while I decide she and Cath are definitely very much alike.

"You know, you're something else. Not as much of a bitch as your sister is, but you still got a big set of balls," he advances across the room, somewhat threateningly.

"My set is even bigger," I decide to join in at this point, placing myself between him, and everyone else. "Fighting isn't helping anyone; you'd be much better off if you calm down, and concentrate on spending some time with Lindsey. Maybe then, everyone will get along a little better."

"And if I don't?" he snarls at me.

"Then I have a feeling you're going to come off a lot worse, because you'll give Catherine a reason to stop you seeing Lindsey, and you'll have nobody to blame but yourself," I warn him.

"LINDSEY! Come on lets go," he shouts up the stairs, and seconds later she comes trotting down, dropping her bag on the floor as she goes in search of her shoes.

It's a tense few minutes as he glares back at us all, and when Lindsey is ready she sets about hugging everybody goodbye. He doesn't really mind that, until it's my turn.

"Thanks for painting my room, and looking after us today, Sara. I had fun," she reaches up to me for a hug.

"You're welcome squirt," I hug her, and kiss her on the cheek. "I'll see you Monday; we're still going skating right?"

"Right," she nods her head with a smile. "Can Jer come too?"

"Absolutely, you wanna come skating little man?" I ask him, as he looks up at Nancy with puppy eyes.

"Please Mom, can I go?"

"Course you can," Nancy smoothes his hair down. "But I want all your homework done first."

"Excuse me, I don't have all day," Eddie growls. "Come on Linds, let's go."

She gives us all another wave, and then skips out of the door. Seconds later, we all jump when we hear Cath's front door rattle violently in its frame, when Eddie forcefully slams it behind him.

"That went well," Catherine says dryly, her eyes rolling heavenward.

"Son of a bitch is jealous, and after what he's done he's got some nerve." Nancy shakes her head, and then turns to Jeremy. "Go grab your stuff son bun, we need to leave Aunty Cath and Aunty Sara in peace, they have plans."

She grins at us, and I'm the only one who blushes this time, while Catherine looks more than a little predatory. Hmm, methinks the Sidle virtue is unsafe tonight. It's about goddamn time.

***

Come 8pm, I've been fed and watered, and I'm currently pacing up and down Catherine's living room in order to burn off a little of my excess nervous energy. I'm fully well aware I'll look back on this in a few hours, half dead from Catherine's energetic horizontal gymnastics and wish I'd preserved my energy when I had the chance. Although, I highly doubt my Scooby Doo t-shirt is going to inspire passion in her, but it's the sexiest thing in sleep attire that I possess at the moment.

I figure I have a while to wait yet, since Cath is in the shower still, she's been even longer than she normally is, so she's probably going through that somewhat mysterious process all women go through before a date. You go into the bathroom looking like a gremlin and come out three hours later like a supermodel after all the plucking, shaving, moisturising, waxing, and general assing around that all of us females go through to look good.

That brings me around to the inevitable outcome of our evening. I'm going to be required to actually participate, and my nerves are so bad that at this particular moment in time, I don't feel in the slightest bit turned on. What would happen if women took Viagra I wonder? Would that not be like driving a car at a hundred miles an hour into a brick wall because there's actually nothing there to pump up? Or if they specifically designed some for women, would your bed partner be required to wear scuba gear just in case you got the dosage wrong and got a little too over-excited? I shake my head, I'm doing it again, I let my brain get carried away and end up thinking all kinds of stupid stuff.

I sit down and begin channel surfing instead, the butterflies in my stomach turning into pterodactyls as the minutes go by. I still can't help wondering if I won't be what she expects me to be. Not that I'm weird or anything, I don't do anything too kinky, and I'm definitely not into all that bondage stuff. I'm not one of those people that enjoys being given orders and dragged around their bedroom by the belt on their bath robe, whilst being beaten across the ass with an old copy of Cosmo you normally keep in the bathroom. Oh to hell with it, I'll give her the full benefit of my experience and if that doesn't float her boat, then I'll be officially screwed, just not in a way either of us planned.

"Sara? You want a glass of wine, babe?" Cath pops her head around the archway, startling me from my reverie.

"Please, gorgeous," I smile at her, as she flashes me a flirty grin.

I get up and follow her into the kitchen, just so I can watch her. I've always loved to watch her move, getting lost in the graceful way her limbs move as if they were made of liquid. She knows I'm watching her, just like she always knows. She knows what she does to me, I can tell by the smile hovering around her lips as she uncorks the bottle of wine.

"Anything I can help you with, or were you just getting a good look?" she asks with a smile, reaching up on tippy toe to get the wineglasses.

She can't quite reach, and I lean over her from behind as I pluck the glasses from the cupboard easily, and place them down in front of her. I brush past her again, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, knowing it's a particular weak spot, that always has her squirming for more. I see her shiver slightly, and know that she's not quite as laid back about the entire thing as she would have me believe.

"I'm just letting my eyes wander," I reply, with a laugh as she turns in my arms.

"Like what you see?" she asks, her blue eyes heavy lidded with unconcealed desire.

"Always have, you're beautiful on the inside and out."

She quirks an eyebrow at me, signaling that she's about to tease me. "Let's just assume for a second, that you've only come to that conclusion recently..."

I cut her off. "Hey, just because I couldn't stand you, does not mean to say I didn't think you were sweet," right, that didn't sound quite as nice out loud as it did when it was in my head.

She laughs, mouth open as if in surprise. "You wanna expand on that, or should I kick your ass out of the house right now?"

"Aww come on Cath, you know my mouth says stupid stuff without asking me…shit, digging a deeper hole here," I grit my teeth, and will my brain to have a cohesive thought for once.

"You're digging a hole and wallpapering it," she bursts out laughing, the rich, deep, husky tones washing over me.

"All I know is, I feel you in here," I take her hand, and hold it to my heart, "and that says more than I ever could. Shit, what am I trying to say?"

I'm frustrated. The words won't work, and I'm annoyed by my inability to say what I feel. I could talk endless hours of total drivel about Quantum Mechanics, and other equally incomprehensible stuff, but when it comes to things that really matter, I'm forever tongue tied.

"I know what you're trying to say," The smile on her face shines brightly before my eyes, "and it was perfect."

"I'm such a geek," I look away as I roll my eyes, partly because of the intensity of her gaze, and partly because I'm worried I lack the ability to give her as much as she deserves.

"You're not a geek, but even if you were, you're _my_ geek," she wraps her arms around my shoulders, and pulls me close. "I'm not great with words either, not when it comes to my emotions. But you make me want to try to express my feelings, and I promise you, when the time comes for us to make love later on tonight, then you'll know exactly how I feel about you."

I take a deep breath, as my heart thumps. "You said you were no good with words."

"I'm not," she leans forward, captures my bottom lip in-between hers, and kisses me softly.

"Oh you are," I say breathlessly, leaning in to kiss her again.

"So are you," she whispers, flicking her tongue across my lips.

Several minutes later when we realise we still need to breathe, we pull back to get some much needed air, and grin at each like a pair of idiots. It's the Scooby Doo t-shirt, it must be. Despite my initial reservations, it must be sending her insane with lust. The only other conclusion I can draw from this, would be that she finds me attractive because I'm a total fuckwit, and I know I'm not the first fuckwit she's had a relationship with, Eddie being a prime example. His fuckwittery knows no bounds, as it happens, and I'm beginning to think mine doesn't either.

Take right now for instance, I know she's wearing sexy fudgies and matching bra that she bought especially for me, even the PJ's she's wearing are pretty sexy. And me? I'm wearing a shirt with a cartoon mutt on, what the hell was I thinking? I suppose there must have been a time when my brain assumed it could carry on running my life independently of me, and typically I've only just recently realised it.

She hands my glass of wine to me, and then takes me by the hand and leads me back through into the lounge. She waits until I sit down, and then collapses next to me on the sofa, draping her legs over mine, and taking a sip of her wine. Oh god she smells absolutely heavenly, and I resist the urge to lean closer. This sniffing thing has got stop before she actually notices, and thinks I'm a kinky beast.

"What movie did you get, honey?" she asks, as I rest my arm on her leg.

"Sleepy Creek," I hand her the box, and see her roll her eyes when she realises it's a horror film. "Lindsey wanted to see it, but judging by the cover, we better hide it until she's twenty-one, or forty-five if she's anything like you."

"I'm forty-two cheeky ass, and you know I get scared watching these things," she replies, both of us knowing she's sometimes not as tough as she'd have everyone believe.

"That was exactly why I bought it. There was no point in picking a film you were actually going to watch. The whole point, was to get my hand inside your PJ's, within the first ten minutes of the film," I shake my head as if she should know this.

"Oh so you're familiar with the nuances of movie dates then?" she grins, and takes another sip of her wine before putting the glass down.

"Yes, it's the first scientific rule of dating: the scarier the film, the faster you get into your date's knickers. And with the way you've been all week, I figured we need to crank it up a bit," I grin when she blushes.

"Do I reserve the right to get naked any time to distract you?"

"No, because this actually looks like a decent film, and I'm looking forward to watching it now," I say, keeping a straight face until she flips me the finger.

"Go on then, press play. I'm getting impatient here," she nudges me with her leg, and wiggles her eyebrows.

I put the remote control back down on the table, and she snuggles further into my side, tucking her legs up beside me so that I can wrap my arm around her and she can rest her head on my shoulder. I can't even begin to describe how wonderful it feels to have her in my arms. I'd dreamed about nights like this a thousand times when I was alone, and no feeling I could conjure up ever felt as incredible as this does. It wouldn't seem like a big deal to a lot of people, but for me this is more than a dream come true, because I never thought it would happen.

I'd watch her all the time at work, see the tiredness flowing through her body, knowing that if she felt like I did after a long night, she would crave the feeling of somebody's arms around her. I'd watch her after a difficult case, see the slump of her shoulders and the threat of tears glistening in her eyes, and I would ache to wrap my arms around her until her pain disappeared.

Some days she'd look so totally alone, that I desperately wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, that I'd always be there if she needed me, but I never had the courage to, and I didn't want to believe I could feel that way about her because I thought she hated me. And now I realise how much time we lost, we both wanted and needed the same thing but were too scared to go for it. Well she better watch out, because my underwear is already reaching sub-tropical temperatures. Sidle the love muffin, is almost ready for action. Or I will be in about an hour, when I'm done worrying my ass off.

"SHIT!" Catherine jumps violently, and grabs hold of me as the characters on screen have much the same reaction, when something jumps out at them.

I nearly have a heart attack, as she snaps me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay, baby?"

"No, I very nearly died," she says dramatically. "Is it too much to ask to get naked now?"

"Yep," I nod, knowing the film has been on barely ten minutes, and I have at least another forty five minutes worth of panicking to do yet.

"Do I need to convince you?" she whispers against my ear, sending shockwaves down my spine.

"Maybe," I whisper back, as I close my eyes, my lips instantly connecting with hers.

She slips her hand around the back of my neck, fingernails grazing the skin, and making my skin tingle wherever she touches. I gasp out loud when her free hand slides under my shirt, and her fingers begin caressing my stomach in slow circles, the muscles underneath reacting to her touch instantly. Her lips come crashing down against mine, and my universe spins when her hand cups the bare skin of my breast.

She kneads gently, catching the nipple in-between her thumb and forefinger, placing enough pressure on the sensitive skin to have me writhing underneath her touch. I feel a moan escape my throat of its own volition, and a resulting flood in my lower regions when she licks my bottom lip, and bites down on it. Her hand travels to my other breast, her fingers wandering where they please, before raking her nails down the centre of my chest gently which makes me shiver.

"I want to taste exactly what I'm touching," she says, taking my nipple in-between her fingers again.

A soft sigh escapes my lips, my nerve endings twitch uncontrollably, as electricity flows under my skin. "I might need a little more persuasion."

"I can do that," she whispers, her warm breath, caressing my ear.

Her hand slides down my stomach, agonizingly slowly, and when her fingers dip under the waistband of my pants, I lose control of my higher brain functions. Her fingernails roam against the soft skin of my stomach, and my breath hitches almost as violently as my heartbeat. Her hand travels lower, and lower, and when I feel her fingers slip into the moist heat, I moan her name loudly, as lights flicker before my eyes.

"Oh Cath, sweetheart," my breath comes in ragged gasps, and I cling to her as her fingers caress me gently, with no particular pressure in mind.

"Like that, baby?" there's a smile in her voice, as she alternates the movements of her hand, with her kisses.

"You have no idea, it feels amazing," I open my eyes, to find her baby blues are on fire with arousal.

"That's good, baby," she removes her hand, kisses me once more, and grabs her glass of wine.

"What are you doing?" okay, something somewhere ain't right.

I'm fully well aware that I haven't had sex in a long time but they haven't just suddenly changed the rules have they? I mean last time I did it, sex was a contact sport. You didn't sit on the sofa, sipping your wine and grinning at your girlfriend, while she sat there, drooling and tongue hanging out dumbly while she tried to figure out what you were up to.

"You wanted to watch the film," she grins cheekily as my hormones go into full protest.

"Not fucking funny, Catherine, I want you back where you were, and I want you there right now," I order, as a lusty look passes over her face, giving her eyes that 'come to bed' look.

"I do believe it's your turn to convince me," she husks, before slipping her shirt off, and motioning for me to come closer.

Now I see her present to me, a dark purple lacy bra hugs her contours perfectly, and my heartbeat races when I mentally travel lower to the matching panties I know she's wearing.

"You get to take my bra off, this time," she says quietly, her voice laced with need, as she pulls me toward her with a grin.

I reach around behind her, my hands shaking as they come into contact with her soft, warm skin. I unhook her bra, and as beautiful as it is, it has to go because I so desperately want to see what lies beyond. She grins at me seductively as I slide it down her arms, and toss it to one side. She reaches out for me, sliding her hands across my shoulders and threading them through my hair.

"That's much better," I lean closer, and place a kiss at the base of her throat, her pulse point throbbing against my lips.

Her dusky pink nipples stand proud in the cool air of the room, my eyes being torn between looking at her magnificent body, and looking deep into her eyes. As I move closer again, she moves away, until she's laying flat and I'm leaning above her, supporting myself with a hand either side of her. I dip my head, my lips capturing hers in another burning kiss, as her hands pull me closer, till I'm half laying over her. My hand caresses her front; softly trailing my fingers over her stomach, marveling at the response my touch creates. She moans softly, and impatiently moves my hand lower.

"Patience baby, I've waited three years to be inside you, a little longer won't hurt," I say, and she groans loudly, as she slides her tongue across my own.

"Sara," she then growls, "touch me, please. I'm on fire, and I need you."

I almost take pity on her, almost. I'll touch her, but I want to take things very slowly. I fully intend to have her so aroused that she won't know what planet she's on. Then, and only then, will I give her the release we both crave. I give her a wicked grin, as I slide down her body, until I reach her bellybutton. She knows what I'm going to do before I do it, and flashes me a smile as she reaches out, and takes hold of my free hand.

When my tongue dips inside her bellybutton, and I kiss the sensitive skin around it, her moans become guttural as her hips buck up to meet my lips. I nip the skin with my teeth, and smile when she grips my hand tightly and several expletives leave her mouth, as she none too gently tells me where she wants me next. I'm not going to comply just yet, and so travel in the opposite direction, kissing a path across the smooth skin of her taut stomach as I go. She begins shivering and breathing heavily, as I trace the contour of her breast with my tongue.

"Baby, please," she begs, and I finally take pity on her.

My lips close over her rock hard nipple, the sweet taste of her skin exploding against my tongue. As I tease her with gentle movements, her breathing becomes ragged, and her body shudders against mine. When I increase the pressure of my lips, she grinds herself against me a little faster, desperate to create any kind of friction that she possibly can. I gently bite down on her nipple, dragging my teeth across it with just enough pressure for her to feel me, which causes her to moan in the back of her throat, and arch her back as she presses hard against me to maintain the contact.

"Don't stop, baby," she says breathlessly, as she runs her hands across my back, slipping them under my shirt to caress the skin underneath. "I want to feel you against me."

"What the fuck is going on?!'

I almost fall off the sofa when my head snaps up of its own accord. Eddie is standing in the doorway, looking so angry that his face is a dark red. So red in fact, that he's almost volcanic. It definitely isn't a good sign.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

This is one of those nightmare scenarios where you stare dumbly ahead in a vague sort of way, and wonder how the hell it happened. The last thing I wanted was for Eddie to find me with my lips clamped around various parts of Catherine's anatomy. I suspect she feels much the same way, as she turns the air blue, and slips her shirt back on. He begins pacing back and forth; hands in pockets and looking as if he's ready to raise the roof, but I carry a gun for a living so the asshole better hadn't push me.

In any case, I'm pretty sure it won't be an issue. Catherine is already way past livid, and will probably kill him for me if I wait long enough. I've seen her do her 'raving 'nana' often enough to know, that anything that has gone before was merely child's play. This is something in an altogether different league. If somebody had told me she was going to defend an entire country single-handedly against Mongol hordes, with little more than a pair of tweezers and a nail file in her current mood, I would immediately run out and place my life savings on Catherine to win.

"Where's Lindsey?" she asks, bracing herself for his response.

"She's asleep, in the car," he shrugs, unconcerned.

"Well that's fucking responsible!" she glares at him, as we both automatically head for the door, to see if Lindsey's okay.

"She's not alone. Charlotte is with her, so stop gettin' hysterical," he says with a smirk, which only serves to wind Catherine up further.

That was a cheap shot, and I have the sudden urge to see if it really is physically possible to shove your foot up somebody's ass. I might lose a perfectly good set of shoes in the process, but it would be more than worth it. Having said that, I realise I'm barefoot at the moment, and no amount of revenge is gonna make me do it without adequate cover. Ah to hell with it, I vote we shoot the little weasel right now and have done with it.

Catherine clenches her teeth, and takes a deep breath. "I don't know why you're here, and I really don't care, but I want you out. Now!"

"Hey, we're not done here," he gestures self importantly. "I don't want you dating anybody while Lindsey is still growing up. Once she goes off to college, you can do whatever the hell you want, but till then, quit waving your rack at people in the house."

I can't believe he said that, and neither can Catherine apparently, because she advances on him, and shoots him a look that could quite easily kill. But he isn't about to let it go.

"I mean it Catherine; she could have walked in on you at any time. She needs a stable environment, not you screwing around. You ever think about that?" his face reddens again, and I can tell its taking all of his self-control to keep a lid on his temper.

This makes me wonder what he's up to. The Eddie I've been told about would instantly go nuts, and not even bother to ask questions later. But the man I see before me is so obviously deeply angry, and yet is keeping himself in check. While he somehow manages to accuse Catherine of the same things he's been guilty of in the past. I don't like this one little bit.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, you self righteous bastard," she says, her tone so icily calm that if I were him, I really would fear for my safety. "Do us all a favour, and leave before I change my mind about letting you keep Lindsey tonight," she says, as she walks out of the room.

I know she's gone to check up on Lindsey, and frankly I don't blame her, because I wouldn't even believe today's date coming from Eddie. It looks as if he's yet again achieved what he set out to do, and successfully managed to upset her. This isn't a recent development, it's been going on for quite a while by all accounts, but even I can see its gotten worse just lately. Catherine's constantly on edge because of his frequent threats to file for custody, and she must be pretty sure he's capable of doing it, or she'd have stopped worrying and assumed they were empty threats by now. As for why he's doing it, is a completely mystery; to me at least.

"What did you really come back for?" I'm curious; I wonder what keeps driving him to upset Catherine at every turn.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I came back for Lindsey's stuff," he gestures to a little pink backpack on the floor in the hall, which I hadn't noticed until now.

"I think you should take it and go," I reply steadily, keeping my anger under wraps, because the last thing Catherine needs is for me to lose my temper with him.

"Why, so you can get around to fucking my wife again?" he snarls, teeth bared and eyes hard. "I've seen her flashing her assets to a lot of people over the years, but I never thought she'd start putting it about like a cheap tart."

"You better learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut, because if I ever hear you talking about Catherine like that again, you'll be looking down the business end of my gun, got it?" I say, as he gets the message and pales slightly, probably because he doesn't know me well enough to know whether I'm bluffing or not.

"I'd like to see you try," he blusters, but we both know it's an empty comeback.

I hear the front door slam, and Catherine disappears into the kitchen without even glancing in our direction. It's probably for the best, things are bad enough right now without a huge row making everything worse. Although Eddie would probably enjoy that, seeing as the man is a first class asshole. I can't believe that he would stoop so low as to take advantage of the fact that Catherine worships the ground Lindsey walks on, and will continue to allow her father access, even though his constant threats and remarks hurt her deeply. I wish there was something I could do to help, but it isn't my place to get involved where Lindsey is concerned because she isn't my daughter, and anything I do could just as likely make the situation worse as improve it.

"Door is that way," I point down the hall, "And I'll take those keys for Catherine."

He throws them on the floor, like a petulant child. "Fine, take 'em, not like I don't have another set."

I step out onto the porch, and can't resist a quick peek over at the car just to make sure Lindsey is still okay. I see the top of her blonde head snuggled against the car seat, and assume she's still out for the count. When I glance over at the occupant of the front passenger seat, Charlotte sends a friendly smile my way, but quickly gets interested in the dash when Eddie glares at her.

Eddie turns to me as he rattles his car keys in his hand. "Catherine and I may have had our differences over the years, but we got a lot of history and more importantly we've got a child together, which is something you'll never have. I'm warning you, I'll get my family back, whether you choose to give them to me or not."

"I don't own anybody; Catherine is with me because she wants to be. So don't blame me because you couldn't see what you had right in front of you. You screwed up pal, and she doesn't want you anymore, so live with it."

He smirks at me, as he shakes his head. "I'd remember that little speech if I were you, 'cause pretty soon, I'll be quotin' parts of it back at ya."

He climbs into his car, and as the red taillights disappear down the road, I make a mental note to myself to watch him. I have a feeling he's only just getting started.

I go in search of Catherine and find her outside on the patio, staring at the slowly rippling surface of the swimming pool, her face alternately bathed in cool blue light and dark shadows. The glowing tip of a cigarette, tells me that she's given into her addiction again, just about a week after we'd both given up. I can't say I blame her, I'm not exactly feeling serene myself, at this point in time.

She smiles up at me when she notices I'm moving in her direction, but quickly turns her eyes back to the water. There are times when Catherine still can't bear to let me see her in such a vulnerable state. But I can't bear to let her deal with it alone either; I love her too much to do that. I take a seat behind her on the sun lounger, and as she leans back against me, I feel her shaking. For a moment, I suspect she's close to tears. Until I notice the firm set of her jaw, and realise she's still very angry, indeed.

"You're shaking life a leaf, Cath," I rub her arms, and place a kiss against her temple. "Come on baby, its okay, everything will be okay."

"Why can't he just leave us the hell alone?" It's more of a rhetorical question; I think she knows why he won't, and I'm beginning to think I do too. "I'm sorry for leaving you with Eddie…I just wanted to see that Linds was okay, after that I couldn't face him. It was either that or…" she tails off.

"Lose your temper, and give him some free dentistry, I know and its okay," I chuckle when she murmurs her agreement. "I took his key from him, but I do think you should think about getting the locks changed."

"Thanks baby, we can sort that out tomorrow," she replies, as I realise she used the word 'we' which gives me a feeling deep inside that I can't explain any more articulately than warm and fuzzy.

"Maybe you should tell Sam," I suggest, thinking it could be a solution to the problem.

"I really don't want to do that unless I have to. So far, it's just threats, but if he's planning something then I can't afford to show my hand too early," she replies, and of course, she's right.

"Like what?" now I really start to worry.

"I don't know, there's a side to Eddie I don't know much about and that's what scares me. We were married for a long time, but he always kept a part of himself hidden. I'd like to say I know what he's capable of, but there's always that element of doubt."

I don't quite know what to say, if she doesn't know what he's going to do, then there's no hope for the rest of us.

"Lindsey was still asleep when they left, she seemed fine," I change the subject slightly, because she's wound up enough as it is.

"She must have been worn out; I can't get her to fall asleep that early on a weekend," she says with a smile.

"She'll need her rest, Super Sidle is taking her skating on Monday," I joke, and she giggles.

"If any of you come home with a broken leg, I'm going to hold you responsible," she nudges me. "Although nursing you back to health sounds good."

"Oh did I not mention you're coming with us? You're not getting out of it that easily, Willows," I grin, having visions of her gliding along and looking sexy into the bargain.

"You've got no chance. I haven't skated for the best part of thirty years."

"Now's your chance to take it up again," I refrain from telling her I haven't skated since I was a kid either. I'll probably break eight legs knowing my luck: my own, hers, and the kids.

"If it gives me an excuse to look at your ass, then I'll come with you," she grins, and snuggles further into me, still shaking slightly in my arms.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask, as I run my fingers through her hair.

"Yeah…I will be. Trust that bastard to walk in on me getting laid!" she says, her tone full of exasperation, and the way she says it is so comical that I can't help laughing.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not going anywhere, we have all the time in the world," I nuzzle the back of her neck, placing a gentle kiss on the soft skin.

She sighs loudly, and pulls my arms tighter around her. "I know but tonight was meant to be special. It was meant to be about us."

"It still can be. I'm here, you're here," my breath warms the back of her neck, and she shivers involuntarily as she moans softly. "What's to stop us making love, now?"

"Are you sure you still want to?" she asks breathlessly, when my hands snake around her sides, lifting her shirt a little higher so that I can caress her stomach.

"Are you sure I still want to what? Kiss you? Caress you? Taste you? Tease you?" I ask, as my hands slide further up her shirt, smiling when I remember she isn't wearing a bra.

She leans heavily against me, the back of her head resting on my shoulder as her breaths come in quick succession. She trembles as the palms of my hands slide along her ribs, coming into contact with the soft skin of her breasts. She squirms against me as I cup them in my hands, and when I gently bite her shoulder through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, the sound that escapes from her throat is almost primeval. It seems I have found another weak spot, and I fully intend to memorise them all before the night is out.

It's a strange feeling being in control for once, but I have a feeling she's going along with it at the moment because it suits her. When she's had enough of being teased, and letting me control the pace, she'll assert herself again, and the thought turns me on like nothing ever has before. Everything she does is characterised by the same drive, and sense of passion, albeit in lots of different ways.

I don't mind admitting I'm a little unsure of myself at this point, just as I have been during lots of our interactions. The fact she always seems so confident, and has such a strong personality is nearly always the cause of it, even though I know now that she's just as vulnerable as I am in lots of ways. It's always been down to me though, she's never tried to control me, or force her opinions on me, although at times I've assumed differently. But as I recall snippets of conversations we've had, my confidence comes running back, she doesn't see me as weak or ineffectual at all. I make myself feel that way, and there's no need, not now.

"Oh god, Sara," she says, barely above a whisper as her breaths come in staccato gasps.

"You don't know how many times I've been with you like this in my dreams," I say, before running my tongue around the outside of her ear as she groans with pleasure.

I graze my thumbs across her nipples, as her breath hitches, and I'm about to do something so totally out of character for me, that if my legs weren't already like jelly then they soon would be.

"Tell me, Catherine, what's your ultimate fantasy?"

"You," she whispers without hesitation. "Underneath me, on top of me, inside me."

A bolt of electricity rushes down my spine, as her words hit me like mini lightning strikes. At this point, I really don't know who's controlling the pace, and I don't exactly care.

"Then let me be your fantasy, tonight," I slide my hand down her stomach, and under the waistband of her pants, as she stretches her arms out behind her in anticipation of what I'm about to do.

"Oh god, Sara," she repeats again. "Please, honey."

As my hand travels lower, I feel the evidence of how much she's enjoying this. Slick heat envelopes my hand, as I slowly begin to caress her. She tightens her arms around the back of my neck, her body arched, breasts pointing towards the starry night sky as she shivers and shakes uncontrollably in my arms.

"After one of our fights," I murmur against her ear, "I'd sit in my lab, and fantasise about dragging you into your office, and pushing you up against the door as I did this," I say, as I move my fingers in response.

She groans loudly, grinding herself against my hand, with the intention of hurrying things along. But while I still have control, I'm sure our first time won't happen out here by the pool. I still my hand, and hold her steady, as I whisper soothing sounds in-between placing gentle kisses on the side of her face to calm her down a little. It evidently has the opposite effect, because she shudders and turns her head toward me, her lips catching mine in a searing kiss. Her tongue snakes past my lips, and duels with mine for dominance, as she flicks her hips with an upward motion against my hand.

"I want you, baby," she gasps, not able to speak properly. "I spent so many hours making love to you in my dreams, and I can't wait much longer."

"Not here," I whisper back, biting down on her bottom lip, and then running my tongue over it.

She turns in my arms, and with a wicked smile on her face she slides her hand into her pants, and it comes to a rest on top of mine. She closes her eyes, and bites down on her bottom lip, as she gyrates slowly on her knees and moans softly. This causes a corresponding flood in my southern regions, and before I know where I am, I'm flat on my back. She presses the full length of her body against me, and begins rocking back and forth a little on my hand, dipping her head to kiss me once again. I know what her intention is, and I can't let her take control, even if it is only to tease me because I'm not sure how much longer my self control is going to hold out.

"Quit teasing me," I grin up at her as I pull back slightly. "You know you're not getting laid out here, so knock it off, Willows."

She wiggles her eyebrows at me. "Not feeling kinky enough huh, Sara?"

"Any other time, yes. But not our first time," I reply, as she nods, and her face softens into soppy grin, as if me caring about the location makes her happy.

"Come on," she says, clambering to her feet, and pulling me with her. "It's about time we got rid of those clothes you're wearing."

She smiles at me in such a way that turns my insides to mush, and proceeds to pull my shirt over my head, before launching it somewhere into the darkness. Her hands caress the bare skin of my back, and her touch combined with the cold night air gives me goose-bumps.

"Hmmm, somebody is cold," she says, her voice husky as she reaches over to caress my breasts.

She grins seductively at the way my breathing shallows out, knowing that she's driving me absolutely wild. I figure she shouldn't be the only one that's clothed, and I reach for the hem of her t-shirt, and wait until she raises her arms for me. Like everything else she does, it's designed to have the maximum effect when she stretches lithely, and arches her back, exposing her upper body to the air. Her shirt joins mine in the darkness, and I wrap my arms around her, the feel of skin on skin absolutely incredible.

She kisses me hungrily, as we carry on along our way, making a funny sort of shuffling motion across the patio back towards the house. It's difficult trying to get anywhere when I'm walking forwards and she's walking backwards, so I pause and gripping her around the thighs, I hoist her into my arms. She makes noises of approval as she wraps her legs around my waist, and uses her height advantage to explore the inside of my mouth with her velvety tongue again. I almost collapse to my knees when I feel her press her breasts against me on purpose, her rock hard nipples grazing against my upper chest.

Somehow we manage to make it inside, and by the time we're halfway up the stairs, I need to stop. I've lost the ability to breathe, she's systematically stealing every last ounce of oxygen I have, and being so close to her has my heart rate going through the roof. I push her up against the wall, and rest my forehead against hers as I concentrate on my breathing. She senses I need time to calm down, and places the palm of her hand against my raging heartbeat.

"Are you okay, honey?" she asks, and rubs her free hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture.

"I'm fine, I just need a minute," I nod with a breathless smile.

"If I'd known it was possible to kill you this way, I'd have done it years ago," she chuckles, and pushes me into a sitting position on the stairs, before kneeling astride me.

"If you kill me now, you don't get laid," I dip my head, and place a kiss at the base of her throat, sucking gently on her pulse point.

"Ah ah, that's naughty," Catherine chastises. "I didn't say you could kiss my throat did I?"

I look at her like she's suddenly grown another head. "Huh?"

"You're meant to be getting your breath back," she says, wagging a finger at me when I attempt to kiss her again.

"Cath," I whine pathetically, because I can breathe again, and I just want to get back to where we were.

"You had your chance to be in control Sidle, and you blew it, so I'm in charge now. Are you going to be a good girl, and play along?"

"Maybe," I grin. "You might just have to try to persuade me again."

"Oh don't worry, gorgeous, I will. Either way, we're gonna wake the neighbours," she fixes her beautiful blues eyes on me, and the combination of her words and her gaze makes me feel as if I've just been sprinkled with magic.

"Vocal…as well as being…a biter," I gasp, as her teeth clamp down on my neck.

That's going to leave a bruise tomorrow. She's so gonna get a matching one.

"Having trouble speaking, sweetheart?" she asks, a shit eating grin crossing her features.

She takes hold of my hands, lacing our fingers together, as she begins kissing my neck again, nipping here and there with her teeth as she does. Each time I reach out to kiss her, or touch her, she stops and pulls back until I remain still.

"I didn't say you could touch, yet," she runs her hands across my shoulders, and licks her lips as she treats me to yet another seductive smile, that I could so easily get addicted to.

"You're a tease," I groan with frustration.

"You think that's teasing?" she husks, the tone of her voice working my hormones into a frenzy. "Just wait until you get your own private show."

The cavewoman in me takes over, either that or it's the sight of a topless Catherine Willows waiting to be fucked senseless that makes my instincts drive me forward, as I lift her bodily into my arms and carry her the rest of the way up the stairs. By the time I set her back on her feet, and close the door behind us, I turn to find her looking at me with an expression I've never seen before. A cross between lust, and sheer raw sexuality; with a clearly visible wild streak thrown in. Her face is flushed, her eyes shining as a smile hovers around her lips, and I can honestly she's never looked as alive as she does right now, nor as beautiful.

"Come here," she orders, as she crooks her finger at me.

"What's in it for me?" I ask, deciding to be cheeky.

She decides not to answer. She comes to me instead, and pins me up against the bedroom door, as her teeth sink into my shoulder. I'm strangely turned on by this animalistic side of her, as I feel her bite me with just enough pressure to drive me insane and leave me wanting more. She uses the difference in our heights, to easily bow her head and resume her exploration of my body, nipping my skin and running her tongue over it afterwards soothingly.

My muscles twitch like strobe lights, and I feel a pooling between my legs as her tongue suddenly flicks across my nipple. I almost lose my balance when I feel her lips close around it, biting down with a gentle pressure, as my moans pierce the air.

"Does that answer your question?" she says, in-between swirling her tongue over the skin and raking her nails across my stomach.

"That answers my…" I pause as I feel her hand slide inside my pants, cupping me gently before her fingers resume their earlier path and tease me languidly, "question."

"Are you gonna be good, and do as I tell you?" she asks, before she dips her head again, tongue caressing the base of my throat as she speeds the rhythm of her fingers up a little.

"Oh god, yes," I say, as my body reacts to her like never before.

"Good," she replies, as she removes her hand, and looks at me with a naughty expression.

I almost faint when the tip of her tongue slides past her lips, and she presses her index finger to her mouth. She draws a little of her finger into her mouth, releasing it slowly, as she groans softly. If she keeps this up, she's going to floor me with sensory overload. She flashes me a wicked grin, before she reaches up to kiss me, solely for the fact she knows I'll be able to taste myself on her lips. As soon as we make contact, her loud moans mingle with mine, as my world gets turned upside down once more.

She pulls me toward the bed; my body shivering with anticipation at what I think I know is coming next. She places her hands on my shoulders; none too gently pushes me into a sitting position and sits astride my lap again. She takes hold of my wrists, and places them behind my back in a gesture of restraint.

"Are you ready, Sara?" she asks, her eyes searching mine for evidence that I'm okay with our little game. "I've been waiting a long time to do this for you."

"I'm ready."

"You can look, but you absolutely can't touch," she says, a wicked glint in her eye.

"I can't promise not to touch," I say honestly, "no matter how much I want this, I can't promise you that."

"It sounds like I need to keep you in line, Sidle. If you touch me, I'll cuff you," she replies, enjoying the effect her words have on me.

"Then go ahead and cuff me," I have absolutely no idea if she's got cuffs, I suspect she has, or she wouldn't have threatened to do it.

Now I have a good idea of what her fantasy consisted of, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't envisaged this too. She's never attempted to take control of me before, and nor would I have let her but this time is different. Part of my fantasies have always been about being completely at her mercy, because she's the only person in this world I trust not to take advantage of me or hurt me. I think each time we went back to our respective corners after yet another fight; we'd probably had similar fantasies of resolving the tension, without either of us ever seriously thinking that it was sexual tension in the first place. Now we're pretty certain it was, and I don't know why we had never realised it before.

"Wait here, don't go anywhere," she places a kiss on my lips and disappears into the closet.

"Yeah right, like I'm that stupid," I say with a grin, as I hear her chuckling in response.

Several minutes later, she reappears, swinging a set of handcuffs off the end of her index finger. I lick my dry lips as my anticipation builds; I've never in my life been cuffed during foreplay. Mind you, I've never been cuffed at all outside of training, and I've never had foreplay like this either. She leans over me, and gently cuffs my hands behind me, making sure they're not too tight.

"If you want me to stop at any time, tell me, and I promise I will," she says, her eyes full of tenderness, as she strokes the side of my face.

"Believe me, you'll hear me scream loudly enough if I want to be let free," I grin and wriggle in my seat, as I attempt to wait patiently for the show.

"Here's hoping you'll be screaming my name in ecstasy instead," she murmurs with a smile, as she reaches out to stroke a finger across my lips.

I watch as she crosses the room, to a small stereo sitting on her dressing table, and I'm mesmerised when she stretches her arms out a little. The muscles in her body ripple like water, and I'm completely blown away by how beautiful she is. She flicks a switch and as the music starts, she turns to me as her eyes lock with mine. I'm surprised to see she's completely transformed into somebody that looks like Catherine still, and yet doesn't look like her at all. She begins rocking back and forth as the music starts out softly, hips swinging to and fro erotically, thumbs hooked into the waistband of her pants. Her movements build in tempo and passion as the song does, and my jaw hits the floor. I realised she was limber, but I hadn't realised she could bend in a multitude of ways. Shivers run down my spine, as she dances closer, the gentle sway of breasts as mesmerising as the rest of her movements.

_Just like a river runs, like a fire needs flame  
I burn for you_

She kicks her leg over my head, coming to rest in my lap, as she rotates her hips from side to side in time with the music. I can't help gazing up at her adoringly, and she smiles at me, knowing she has complete control over me any time she wants. With a wink, she reverses her position and begins grinding her backside against my pelvis as her back comes into contact with my front. She knows exactly what she's doing to me, and I'm completely under her spell, as all areas of her body seem to move independently of each other, but still somehow in perfect rhythm.

_I gotta feel it in my blood_

As I said, visions of her like this have always somehow found their way into my mind before, but imagining it and experiencing it are two completely different things. If I thought Catherine moved with a sort of slightly muted sexuality before, now it's muted no longer. The air around me seems to be superheated, as Catherine stands in front of me, arms dancing in the air and exaggerating the movement of her hips to the beat of the music. An uncontrollable fire burns inside of me, and I want this woman more than I ever thought possible. The beat of my heart races dangerously fast, and I feel her eyes lock with mine, as she plays out each little note of her seduction.

_I need your touch, I need your love _

When she moves away from me, I miss her closeness immediately, but not for long, as she soon dances back toward me. Hands caressing her stomach, and breasts at intervals, as she maintains the hypnotic and energetically sexy swing of her hips. I feel my muscles straining against the cuffs, as she reaches up to brush her hair out of the way, and immediately begins running her hands across the front of her body again. My arousal builds steadily, reaching incredible heights, as the ache in my body now becomes physical, and my need to feel her around me and inside me grows. She must see the look of need on my face, and sends me a seductive wink that tells me she knows I really would love to do more than just look.

_And I want  
And I need  
And I lust_

I'm not quite sure how much more of this I can take, as the pounding of the drum beat matches the erotic thrusts of her hips. She approaches me again, and sitting astride my lap once more, she runs her hands up my sides, grazing her nails over the skin leaving a trail of molten fire wherever she touches. When I feel her hands slide across my breasts, my nerve endings screaming at her touch; I dispense with the rules, and capture her lips, kissing her with all of the passion I can muster.

"Take these cuffs off me right now," I growl in-between kisses. "I want to make love to you."

"Not yet," she teases with a smile, thinking she could probably push me much further if she wanted to.

But I'm not about to let her. "Now Catherine, and don't mess with me."

She smiles, and seems to like the tone of my voice, as she busies herself removing the cuffs before allowing me to take hold of her and pull her into my lap again. It's then that she becomes a complete whirlwind, touching and teasing me into frenzy, as we energetically follow each other around the bed, tongues dueling and hands exploring.

I realise tonight's events are to blame for her slightly fierce movements, but I'm not complaining in the slightest. She hasn't hurt me, hasn't once stepped over the line and I know she never would. But the fire and passion in her movements is erotic enough to thrill me, and no lover I've ever had compares to Catherine. She touches as much as she's touched, gives as much as she takes.

The atmosphere in the room becomes electrically charged, as she lies above me, her fingers dancing under the waistband of my pants. I know she's supposed to be in the driving seat now, but if she doesn't quit teasing me, and touch me where I need her soon, then I'm going to explode with sheer need. I decide to take control of the situation, and flip her over on her back.

"Mmmm getting a little bossy huh, baby?" she grins. "I like it."

I wink at her, and grip the waistband of her pj bottoms, before slowly sliding them over the gentle curve of her hips, and down her well toned thighs. More goose-bumps appear on her skin as she's exposed to the air, and I lean down, running my tongue over those on her stomach. She growls loudly, and tangles her fingers in my hair, urging me forward. I smile against her skin, take the waistband of her panties in my teeth, and slide them down her legs. She becomes even more vocal than she has been previously, and emits another loud groan as she bucks against me, and tells me in no uncertain terms what she wants.

I kiss my way up slim calves, tickling the inside of her thigh with my tongue, before kissing up and around where she really wants me. She complains loudly, but I have other ideas. I pull back, pausing to take off my pj pants and underwear, which very quickly join hers on the floor. When I press my naked body against hers, that's when she really makes good on her threat of disturbing the neighbours. Her legs slide around me, holding me tightly, as her wetness brushes against my stomach momentarily before she pulls me closer.

"Mmmm, that feels so good, honey," she shivers violently, and begins kissing me at a feverish speed.

"It gets better," I whisper, as she looks up at me with heavy lidded eyes, and smiles at my words.

Placing a hand either side of her, gives me better leverage to place all of my weight on my arms, so that I can create some friction between us. Her eyes roll back in her head, and sheer instinct takes over causing her body to move against mine in an increasingly erotic dance that has the temperature in the room to shoot up. I'm thankful for the slightly open window, and the breeze the makes the curtains sway back and forth gently, as it cools my rapidly overheating skin.

It's as if every sensation is magnified a thousand times, the feel of her body beneath me, and each movement causing our nerve endings to play their own little part in an entire symphony that belongs to nobody but us. I've never felt this alive, and I've never felt this loved before. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me, and every time I feel her heartbeat against me, my own skips a beat.

It's as if she knows my body as well as her own, she touches me in all the right places, the pressure of her fingertips perfect as if she's done this a thousand times before. Perhaps she has, for I know I've touched her often enough in my dreams. Thinking is becoming difficult; she gently cups me with her hand, her fingers seeking access. Very shortly after I feel her tapered fingers slide inside me, is when I totally lose the ability to think.

"I've waited forever to do this," she says, before capturing my lips again, biting down on the kiss swollen skin. "I can't believe this is real."

"Its real baby, I promise you," I say breathlessly, the warmth of her against my skin sending shockwaves through me as much as her fingers do.

I realise at this point, she's slowed down, the earlier aggressiveness of her lovemaking turning into something soft and tender. I make a mental note to piss her off more often if this is what I get when she's angry, though. The room is alternately filled with soft whimpers, loud moans and the occasional expletive when one of us hits the right spot. I begin caressing her with my fingers, and then slip inside her with ease, as the movement of her hand speeds up.

"Oh…sweetheart," she has trouble forming a complete sentence, as she rocks against my hand, drawing my fingers deeper inside of her.

My movements speed up to match hers, we've teased each other too long, and its now time to finally give in. I quicken the pace even further, my arm moving back and forth steadily as she scrunches her eyes shut and matches my movements thrust for thrust. If thinking was difficult before, it's downright impossible now. I feel the familiar tension beginning to build in the pit of my stomach, my nerve endings shimmering like ice crystals in sunlight.

She breathlessly urges me on, loud enough to disturb the neighbours even further, which only spurs me on. My body begins to convulse as I feel myself teetering on the brink, and the telltale signs of her tightening around my fingers and crying out my name as she crashes over the edge with me. Thousands of bright white lights explode inside my head as I somehow mumble her name, feeling almost weightless before slowly drifting back to earth as Catherine slumps against me, breathing as heavily as I am.

"That's as close to heaven as we'll ever be," I gasp breathlessly, as she chuckles throatily against my chest.

"Think so, huh?" she asks, as she gazes at me. "That's just for starters. As soon as I get the feeling back in my body, I've got plans for you. Let's see how much closer to heaven we can get."

I place a gentle kiss against her lips, and smile up at her. "You're amazing; I can't believe what you do to me. That was…there are no words for what that was, but perfect doesn't even come close."

She smoothes my hair back, and looks at me tenderly, her eyes twinkling as she smiles. "You're not so bad yourself, Sidle. I've never experienced anything like it before, believe me."

"Really?" I'm kinda shocked at this.

"Really," she nods. "Nobody has ever made love to me like that before, never as passionately, or as tenderly. You're pretty amazing yourself."

"I did say I was lover, not a fighter. Brilliant lover too as it happens," I say with a grin.

"Yeah yeah," she sticks her tongue out at me with a laugh. "Bet you didn't think that two weeks after hauling your drunken ass out of my bath, you'd be here like this, huh?"

"I did sort of, but I had pictured it a little differently though."

"Oh?" a slightly serious look passes over her face.

"Like this," I say quietly, kissing her again before turning her over on her back, and sliding down her body with gentle kisses.

The minute she feels my tongue against her, gently teasing and tasting, she grabs tightly onto the bed sheets, her knuckles going white. I smile, and resume teasing her the best way I know how, with tiny little movements that have her writhing around underneath me. I'll tease her for a little while longer, before I give into what she is already desperate for, and bring her to a climax again. But I have a feeling those poor neighbours will lose a lot more sleep before that happens.

As we lay quietly in each other's arms, I take a glance at my watch and see that it's nearly 5am. I'm tired, but I've never been happier, and if the dreamy look on Catherine's face is anything to go by then I'd hazard a guess she's pretty happy too. My only complaint is, various parts of my body have shut down in protest and refuse to work but right now I don't really care, because I have Catherine snuggled up in my arms and there is nowhere else I'd rather be.

"You do realise I've gone numb from the neck down, don't you?" I ask, as Catherine's soft breathing morphs into a snicker.

"Bonus," she replies. "Now I have an excuse to keep you in bed all day."

"You don't need one, but if you're thinking of doing this again, I'm gonna need six weeks notice and a gym membership."

"Awww my poor baby, did I wear you out?" she places gentle kisses along my collar bone.

Damn right she did. I should be thankful that she's 42 years of age, because she's so energetic that I had problems keeping up with her. She must have been seriously high octane in her twenties, and I tell her as much.

"I could probably have gone twice as long in those days," she chuckles throatily, and tiredly props her head on up her hand beside me. "Sara? You know Lindsey's birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks, right?"

"I do sweetheart, I've already had hints the size of house bricks thrown at me. It's Bridal Barbie all the way apparently," I reply, as she lovingly strokes my hair, and places a gentle kiss against my forehead. "Wait, this is your way of asking me to be assistant zoo keeper, right?"

"You didn't think I was gonna attempt to maintain control of a group of wild 8 year olds by myself did you?" she raises an eyebrow at me with a smile. "I need an idiot, I mean willing assistant, to give me a hand."

"Baby, I just gave you two hands, surely that counts for something?" I say cheekily, as I wave them at her.

She grins, and then looks down at her fingers as they draw lazy patterns on my shoulder. "It's a chance for us to be a proper family, and I'd like us all to spend the day together. But I'll understand if this is going too fast for you, I just want you to know how I feel that's all. I'm serious about us, Sara."

My face breaks out into a grin, "I wouldn't miss it for the world; I'd be honoured to spend the day with you both."

"Great, you can take me shopping for her gift too," she grins evilly, knowing I hate shopping at the best of times.

"Done, and I have been," I wink at her. "So, does that mean you're happy?"

"More than I ever thought possible. Are you?"

"I'm so happy that if somebody caught me grinning like this just once more, they'd lock my ass up in a secure facility," I cross my eyes, and pull a funny face as she laughs.

"Sara…" she hesitates, breaking eye contact for a moment, and then looking up at me again, before deciding not to say whatever it was that she was going to say.

Instead, she kisses me softly, and then lies down again as she snuggles into me. As I wrap my arms around her, I have a strong feeling she was going to tell me she loves me. But it would appear she isn't ready to say it, and I can hardly blame her because if she's feeling anything like me, then she won't be able to comprehend the strength of her feelings at the moment. I want to tell her that I love her too, but while this is the perfect time, I still have that niggling feeling that it could be too soon. Even so, I don't want it to pass by unacknowledged.

"I know, sweetheart," I whisper into her hair with a smile. "Me too."

She tightens her grip on me, and I know I've somehow managed to say the right thing for once. I place a kiss on her forehead, still feeling overwhelmed at what we've shared. I don't think either of us realised just how powerful it would be. But it confirms what I already knew a while ago, I think I've finally found the woman I'm meant to spend the rest of my life with.

"Better not wear a plunging neckline for work tomorrow," she says sleepily, as she yawns. "I gave you one hell of a hickey."

"Gotta let the guys find out sometime," I mirror her yawn, and snuggle further down.

"Mhmm, we'll tell them tomorrow," she slurs slightly, her tiredness beginning to overtake her. "Minus the plunging neckline, or you'll kill Greg.

"Spoilsport," I chuckle, having trouble speaking myself, as I begin sinking towards sleep. "Sweet dreams, baby."

"You too, honey," she pulls me closer, and buries her face in my neck. "Sleep tight."

* * *

Song: Animal by Def Leppard


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 19 **

Somewhere in-between that wonderful place called dreamland, and being awake, Catherine suddenly says something in what sounds suspiciously like a foreign language. She then proceeds to break half of my ribs, kindly jamming a knee into my bladder as she attempts to get out of bed in a hurry. She's ever so gentle bless her, and lucky me, a crushed ribcage to go with my bite marks, how thoughtful.

The mattress bobs up and down like I'm at sea, and the last time I felt a sensation like it was when John and I collapsed in a drunken heap on Marty's dance floor one New Year. Catherine gabbles something else, and I make out like I'm listening but to be honest, I haven't got a clue what she's going on about.

I'm nowhere near compos mentis at the best of times, but when you wake me up suddenly, I have all the conversational skills of a muppet. With a quick flashback of our activities the previous night, I smile and burrow down into the covers again, as I close my eyes and get lost in my dreams.

"SIDLE!" Catherine's dulcet tones race up the stairs at me, and I jerk awake as I realise I've been drooling.

"What?" I say grumpily, dropping my head back onto the pillow.

"Are you ever gonna get your ass out of bed?"

As much as I love the woman, I can admit she has a scary side and I'm not brave enough to find out what she'd do if I stayed where I am. However, doing as she asks, may be extraordinarily difficult.

"I'm up," which is a blatant lie, because I seem to have a serious condition known as sticky mattress syndrome, whereby I attempt to sit up but it refuses to relinquish its hold on me.

"You're not, you're still flat out!" I can hear the laughter in her voice; she knows me far too well already. "Shift it!"

"Okay already, Willows. I'm up!" This time I really am.

I attempt to flatten my hair down, which for damn near 2pm on a Sunday afternoon, after the kind of night I had, actually goes surprisingly well. I open a drawer I now share with Catherine and grab the first thing I come to, which happens to be t-shirt and shorts. That reminds me; we'll have to be sure to remember to pick up our discarded clothes, before Lindsey gets home and asks awkward questions. Or worse still, before Lily finds them, and we both end up tied to a chair while she interrogates us.

Fully dressed, but still feeling half asleep, I shuffle downstairs as if I've just signed up for a starring role in a George Romero movie. I sure as hell wouldn't need the makeup, I can tell you that much. I've also just discovered my legs don't work the way they used to, either. I guess it's my own fault, I probably shouldn't have come over all King Kong last night by hauling my woman around the house, but neither of us was complaining at the time so it was more than worth it.

"God, I'm stiff. What did you do to me last night, Cath?" I yawn as I walk into the kitchen. "Good job we didn't have sex outside by the pool, or we'd have wrecked the place."

I open my eyes to see three sets looking back at me. Catherine, Nancy, and Lily. Oh god, what have I done? Catherine leans over the coffee machine, quietly snickering away like it's an Olympic sport. Nancy doesn't waste any time on discretion, and blatantly laughs as she turns an interesting shade of purple. And what of Lily, I hear you ask? Well, she's looking at me as if she wants my nuggies on a very sharp stick. Oh sweet Jesus and the baby orphans; me and my cavernous mouth.

Nothing shatters the post-orgasmic bliss quite like finding what could one day be your in-laws sitting in your lover's kitchen, when you've said something not meant for their ears. Could it get any worse than this? Actually it probably could. It's a damn good job I didn't walk in here naked, divest Catherine of her clothes, and throw her on the table. I would probably have gotten well into second base before I noticed that she'd passed out with shock, because her mother and sister were visiting at the time.

"Good morning, or good afternoon, I should say," I attempt to smile but it comes out looking like a bad case of gastroenteritis. "Lovely day."

"Great to see you again, Sara," Nancy beams at me, evidently loving every minute of her mother's discomfort, as she pretends that I'm not even in the room.

"Hi Nancy; good to see you too. This reminds me of that old joke, about getting up to find your girlfriend having her morning coffee with two lumps: her mother and her sister," I say, in an attempt to break the ice, as both Catherine and Nancy see the funny side and begin laughing again.

Lily however, remains stony faced.

Well shit, that went down like a diver wearing lead knickers. I might as well get used to waiting for the day Lily that cracks a smile and makes her ass jealous; it will probably be right around the same weekend that Hell freezes over. They do say a closed mouth gathers no foot, but they're probably referring to keeping it closed in the first place. If not, then that's that theory cleverly fucked, since I've jammed mine closed already, and still have both of my feet rammed in there pretty good.

"Not that I think you're a lump Mrs Flynn," I figure I should attempt some damage control as Nancy howls again. I give her an evil look, and flip her the middle finger which only makes her laugh harder. "I actually think you're very lovely."

A raised eyebrow is thrown my way. Oh god, she probably thinks I find her attractive now. She probably has visions of her daughter's lesbian lover hiding around corners just to catch lusty glimpses of her. Damn, that's an evil thought. If ever I needed anything out of my head faster than Grissom in drag, it's this.

"Not that I mean lovely in _that_ way. Although of course I can see where Catherine gets her good looks, but I don't find you attractive. That's not to say…"

Shit, shit, shit. Shut up now, Sidle, before you end up with a free case of concussion caused by her repeatedly swinging her purse at your head. Some asshole somewhere, must have decided that instead of letting me continue to cruise through heaven on my little cloud, they were gonna slam the brakes on, thereby sending me into a deep dive toward Hell. A quick look at Lily's face, confirms that I am indeed already there.

Catherine carries on giggling, as Nancy struggles to breathe. "Quit digging, Sidle. You want coffee, babe?"

"Yes please," I take a seat at the table, and immediately remember that I've got a honking great love bite on the side of my neck thanks to 'Gnasher Willows'. I attempt to hide it but it's too late. Nancy has now spotted it and is halfway to busting a blood vessel as she laughs herself stupid all over again. Lily has also seen it, and doesn't know whether she has the diarrhoea or the heartburn.

"Shagged out, Sara?" Nancy clamps a hand across her mouth, as my eyes narrow.

"Just you wait Nancy, I'm taking Jeremy skating tomorrow and I'll get him so high on sugar, he won't sleep for about a week," I reply, as she gives me a look that says butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"You tell her, honey. She's getting too big for her boots," Catherine says, as she laughs, but realises too late that Nancy already has designs on getting us both back.

"Way to go, Cath. That's some hickey Sara has," Nancy flashes her sister the thumbs up, and then turns to me, knowing full well that Lily is actively wishing I'd spontaneously combust. "I take it there's more scattered around your body, though? She never bites just once."

"Nancy!" Catherine goes blood red, sets my coffee cup down in front of me and gets interested in a particular spot on the floor.

"Oh, it looks as if Sara likes a good munch too," Nancy says cheekily, as she points to a suspicious discolouration just peaking out of the collar of Catherine's shirt.

"Are you cruising for my foot up your ass?" Catherine raises an eyebrow at her, which would have any normal person running for cover, but Nancy seems unaffected.

"Oh god, get over yourselves," Nancy shakes her head at us all. "Mom, look at them, they're glowing, disgustingly loved up and happy, and you should be happy for them too. And you two, quit tiptoeing around Mom as if she's gonna kill you for doing something as drastic as falling in love. She'll get used to it."

There's that word again, love. I think deep down we both know we're in love, even though neither of us has actually said the words yet. Lily obviously disapproves, and remains tight lipped as she turns her attention to her coffee. An uneasy silence descends over the room, as things begin to feel a little icy.

Whilst Lily's busy in her disapproval, Catherine hovers behind me, alternately glowering at her mother and tapping out a rhythm on my shoulders with her fingers. Good god, it's like sitting in the path of a missile launcher with a faulty ignition system, and I'm grateful I'm not to blame for her growing annoyance. I turn in my seat and wrap my arm around her waist hoping to calm her down, and in response she pulls me closer, running her fingers gently through my hair.

"Well, it's wicked serious in here," Catherine quips, in an attempt to break the silence, and keep a lid on her temper. "Mom for goodness sake, cheer up, you're making us all miserable."

"I just need some time. I won't say its one of the most irresponsible things you've ever done, but it comes pretty close."

"Oh yeah, I can see that," she responds sarcastically. "Whole hell of a lot worse than being a dancer, and putting most of my wages up my nose, huh? I guess the only saving grace is I can't get pregnant, and totally ruin your life, just like last time," she says as she sits down on my lap, and places her arms affectionately around my neck, clearly past caring what her mother thinks.

Nancy sighs loudly. "Mom, you haven't even given the poor girl a chance. Let's face it, she's a big improvement over Eddie, the guy wasn't exactly Grade A Top Choice marrying material. I could never figure out what Cath saw in him, but I can see what she sees in Sara, and if you take the time to look closely enough, you will too. I already consider her family, that's all there is to it."

Catherine smiles broadly at her sister, both displaying similar grins, as I fight the urge to become emotional again at her words.

"Thank you," I say quietly, smiling brightly at Nancy, as Catherine rubs my shoulder in a tender gesture.

"It's completely inappropriate and certainly not the sort of environment I foresaw my granddaughter growing up in," Lily says, not liking that Catherine and I are so close.

"Right," Catherine nods, "I guess you'd rather Lindsey grew up with her womanising father still at home, so that when he comes in drunk and high at the weekends, he can give me a black eye or two like he used to."

I knew about this, it had been one of the things we'd talked about back in Frisco, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't take advantage of the first opportunity I could get to break the bastard's legs. Lily evidently didn't know and looks shocked. Nancy on the other hand, is wearing the same expression I am, so I take it for granted she knew, which doesn't surprise me because I know they tell each other absolutely everything.

"Oh come on, you can't tell me you never noticed?" Nancy looks at her mother incredulously. "I caught him laying into her one night, and I told the son of a bitch I'd kill him if he touched her again. Which he didn't take too kindly to, and decided he could take us both on."

Catherine smiles grimly. "Luckily for us, Jeff was a few steps behind Nancy and he knocked Eddie on his ass. I kicked him out, and the rest is history."

"Catherine, I didn't…" Lily pauses, not quite knowing what to say.

"Water under the bridge, Ma," Catherine waves it off. "I get that you don't like me being with Sara, I do. But there's no way I'm going to stop seeing her when it feels as if I've waited my entire life just to find her. She takes care of me, makes me feel special, and just as importantly is very good with Lindsey. She reads to her at bedtime, helps out with her homework, and genuinely cares about her. Nobody else I've ever dated has bothered to acknowledge her existence, even Eddie only bothers part time and he's her father for god sake. Sara is a part of us now, and that's the way it's going to stay."

My heart misses a beat and I feel her grip me tightly, the importance of those words not lost on either of us. It takes me all my time not to tell her exactly how much I love her, but now isn't the time, I suspect Lily wouldn't appreciate it.

"Cath's right. You should see her with the kids, they love her, Lindsey especially," Nancy says, as she addresses her mother but smiles at me. "You only have to see the three of them together to know that they're already a family, Mom. Give them a break."

I meekly lift my head, and give Nancy another quick smile of thanks, feeling as if I should be saying something but not wanting to kick off the argument of the century. I've been around Lily enough times now not to be deathly afraid of her any more, but I still wouldn't wanna meet her in a dark alley. Having said that, my main priority is to make sure Catherine and Lindsey are happy, and I shouldn't let Lily walk all over me for the sake of a quiet life.

"Look, Mrs Flynn," I turn to her. "Catherine and Lindsey have very quickly become a huge part of my life, and until recently I didn't think I'd ever be lucky enough to be sitting where I am right now. I don't take this lightly, and I can promise you that I intend to treat them both with the utmost care and respect that they both deserve. I've got a good job, and I'm stable and dependable. I'm not just some random nut job. Well, I'm not _this_ week but when Catherine and I were on that course, I swear to god I almost became unhinged after bending down to take a leak in the wrong place, and ending up with nettle sting on my ass…"

Shit, me and my big mouth again. I just ramble and rattle on, my lips flapping as if they haven't a care in the world. What turned out to be a sort of big declaration of my intentions toward Catherine and Lindsey, sort of turned into a half assed rant on the subject of stinging nettles on my butt. Okay, admittedly I walked around like John Wayne for the rest of the day, while Catherine almost peed her pants from laughing so much, but still.

Lily suddenly starts smiling, and then to my surprise, she begins laughing. Catherine smiles at me and places a kiss on my temple, while Nancy shoots me a brilliant smile and a wink. I'm quite honestly bewildered; I've seen serial killers smile in such a way that didn't chill me as much as the thought of Lily laughing at something I've said. Is it a good sign I wonder?

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot," she concedes, blushing slightly around the cheekbones, the closest she'll probably get right now to letting us know she's sorry for her behaviour.

"I think we did too," I smile, hoping she sees how much I care for her daughter. "I don't expect miracles or anything like that, but I'd like us to try and be friends for Catherine's sake. I'm willing to try if you are."

"Perhaps we should," she leans over the table, and offers me her hand. "Please call me Lily; it's a pleasure to meet you, Sara."

"And you Lily, I hope we'll have a fabulous time in getting to know each other," I can only hope, anyway.

"So, what's this about you two doing it out by the pool?" Nancy asks casually, as Catherine and I quickly look at each other and then simultaneously hang our heads as we blush furiously, not even daring to look in Lily's direction.

I swear to god, if I can hear Catherine giggling at me one more time, I'm gonna give her a wedgie of epic proportions. I've developed a funny sort of a limp now, and I swear to god, my ass cheek is killing me. How the hell did that happen? Well, we've already established its 'cause of all that monkeying around with Catherine. But what I actually meant to say is, how you can you get out of bed with what you think is a stiff leg, and then it suddenly morphs into a sore ass cheek? Who the hell comes up with this stuff?

Catherine tells me I've probably strained a leg muscle, but if that's the case, how come it's my ass that's sore now? She says it's all connected, and that I should quit being a big girl's blouse, but she doesn't understand. I've become quite attached to my legs over the last 34 years and strangely enough, I'd actually like them to work as and when it's required. In any case, I refuse to agree with her, it hurts on my ass cheek, and that's where it's staying. End of. I blame her anyway, if I'd known her muscles were made out of elastic, I'd have gone and had my legs surgically broken and re-attached at various different angles just so I could keep up with her.

"Yo, hop-a-long," Nick greets me as I bravely limp into the break room, with my pain in the ass girlfriend in tow. "I think you lost your horse somewhere between here and the parking lot, unless of course you're walking like that because you're so pleased to see me."

Catherine begins giggling again, and I shoot her a glare.

"Speaking of horses, Nick. I always wanted to ask you why nobody noticed that you swapped teeth with a horse from a ranch back out in Texas," I reply grumpily, pouring coffee for us all as Catherine giggles loudly at my comment this time.

"Oh, somebody has PMS," Nick wiggles his eyebrows at me, knowing the PMS comment usually does the trick, and sends me off the deep end.

"Somebody has a sore ass," I turn around and shoot him my version of Catherine's death glare. "And if you continue on this path, yours will be too, because you're dealing with a woman on the edge buddy, and I've got no compunctions about ramming your own fist up your ass in a boxing glove!"

"Oh, I love it when she talks dirty," he rubs his hands together, clearly finding this funny, as he sits down.

"Good evening, sex kittens," Greg slides into the room, his mouth on overdrive as ever.

"Hey lurch," Catherine greets him affectionately.

"Hey Greg, Nick wants to know if you'll go out with him next Friday night, to that new bar, Fusion," I ask, before handing everyone's coffee out, and taking a sip of my own.

"Yeah sure," he nods enthusiastically, before he turns a little pink. "Er wait…Fusion is a gay club."

"Yep, Nick bats for both teams. And we know you do too, especially after the way you've been lusting after Grissom all week," I giggle, as they both go bright red and refuse to even look at each other in case anyone thinks they really are gay.

"Quit teasing the poor boys," Catherine's eyes twinkle at me. "Just because you're happy doesn't mean to say you can torment them."

I grin back at her. "Sweetie, you're spoiling all my fun."

"Sweetie?" both Nick and Greg risk a look at each other, and mouth the word simultaneously in shared surprise at our behaviour.

"Perhaps you're right, though," Catherine replies thoughtfully, as she points at the boys. "They're calling each other sweetie, already."

"Funny," Greg pouts in her direction, and sniffs at his coffee suspiciously.

"What gives?" Nick asks looking puzzled. "I know you guys said you sorted your differences, but you're actually behaving as if you don't want each other dead now."

Catherine and I exchange a quick look, both in agreement that we should have a little fun with them.

"We got tired of fighting," Catherine shrugs, with an easy smile as she toys with her coffee stirrer. "Tried sex instead, and it's so much better."

Greg's mouth flies open, as his pupils dilate so fast I'd swear he was on something if I didn't know any better. He must definitely be out of it, since he's gulping his coffee down without complaining about it not being expensive enough to pass through his kidneys.

"Unless of course we combine the two, and then angry sex is great too," I say, Catherine nodding her approval as Nick's face goes red, and Greg appears to quit breathing.

"I don't believe it," Nick shakes his head, and waves his finger at us with a grin. "You guys tried this last week, and I didn't believe it then either. I'm not buyin' it."

"Last week was different, that was just plain sex," Catherine shakes her head. "This week we got into fetishes. I wasn't entirely enamoured, but it floats Sara's boat."

I fight the urge to giggle at her words, and attempt to up the ante. "Listen, it's a scientific thing, okay. Applied correctly, charges of electrical current can give you what they once deemed as a 'religious experience, thereby enhancing the sexual one."

"Yeah but to be fair, when you mentioned the word fetish, I thought it was gonna be something like making me wear a rubber suit, or smearing baby oil on my lower portions, while I pole-danced for you. I didn't realise you had designs on plugging my boobs into the national grid," she replies, in a fake huff as it takes all of my self control not to keel over laughing.

"It was a 12 volt car battery, not a circuit breaker," I roll my eyes. "You're comin' on like it could have powered Vegas."

"It could very well have done, 'cause it was all fun and games until I was sure I had third degree burns from the nipple clamps. To top it all off, the fluffy handcuffs suddenly burst into flames," she coughs to cover up the fact that she's dying to laugh. "Nothing turns me off quite like being used as a lightning rod!"

"We already talked about this; the fire was out quickly, and it was a whole lot better than having bare cuffs against your skin. You know for a fact your bed frame is made of metal, you could have been juiced."

"Still, it wasn't all bad," Catherine sighs lustily, as Greg's ears perk up, "you did enjoy my lap dance routine, and I enjoyed being smacked over the ass with my copy of Cosmo, while I hung upside down from the clothing rail in the closet."

I choke on my drink, I should never have told her about the Cosmo thing, even in jest, because it was my worst nightmare. "By all accounts you liked sex in the pool too, but it wasn't quite the same in the bath was it?"

"Not really no," she turns to me conversationally. "The problem is, in the bath you're limited for space, and the showerhead just isn't the same as the jets."

Greg's breathing becomes ragged, and Nick looks as if he's suddenly become paralysed from the eyes down. At this point, I'd generally take pity on the them, but it doesn't look like Catherine is about to.

"Which reminds me, I never did find out your views about sex on the kitchen table. I personally preferred the counter, gives you something to grab onto when things get a little overheated. What do you think?" she turns her gaze on me, and I see her eyes sparkle with barely suppressed laughter.

I make a show of considering my answer. "I actually think the floor was better, especially if you're on your knees. But if we're going for thrill factor, I have to agree, the kitchen counter was unbeatable."

There's a few seconds pause, until Catherine can't hold her laughter in anymore, and they both scowl at us as we giggle ourselves stupid. Nick eventually joins in the laughing, knowing that we've been teasing them. Well, almost, because we actually have tried a few of the things we talked about. Minus the car battery, the closet, and Cosmo of course. Greg however, is still scowling in our direction, when Warrick, walks in the door with Grissom.

"Hey ladies," he waves at us and sits down, as Grissom pours himself some coffee.

"Hey 'Rick," Catherine gives him a warm smile as I wave at him.

"How's it going?" I ask him.

"Doin' good," he replies, before doing a double take as he looks at me.

He then bites on his lip to keep from smiling and gestures to me that I happen to be showing off rather more of my neck than I really wanted to. I quickly pull my shirt across my throat, thinking the neckline was already high enough, and hoping nobody else noticed. Suddenly, all eyes are on me as Catherine begins snickering again like a teenage girl.

"Sara, do you have a hickey?" Greg grins at me, obviously sensing gossip, and being so totally unobservant that he hadn't noticed it in the last ten minutes since I'd walked in the door.

"No," I shake my head; play time is well and truly over when my bite wounds come into it.

"Yes, she does," Catherine nods helpfully, with an evil grin.

"I wanna see," Greg leans over and pouts. "Please."

"What? No, you little pervert," I wave him off, wondering if he could get any weirder.

"So, you do have a hickey," Nick flashes me a shit eating grin. "Go on, show your lil' Greggo."

"Please, show me," Greg whines, and bounces up and down in his seat like a five year old.

"Jesus, you guys are weird," I look at them like they've lost their minds. "This is all your fault, Willows. That's absolutely the last freakin' time you get anywhere near me with your teeth."

There's a general gasp around the room, as the full implications of my statement sink in. Warrick begins smiling and nodding his head in such a way that tells me he already knew. Which given the fact that he and Cath know each other so well, he's probably had it worked out for a while. Nick on the other hand, has his jaw resting on the tabletop, in a similar expression to Greg, who's now flashing his epiglottis at us in an extreme state of shock. Evidently neither of them seriously believed us. Grissom on the other hand, is grinning at us proudly; as he should because it's largely thanks to him we got together in the first place.

"You bit her?" Greg asks Catherine squeakily.

"That's generally what you do when you give somebody a love bite," she grins, not in the slightest bit self conscious.

"Show me," Greg is obviously in fantasy mode right now, I see all the telltale signs: red face, beads of sweat on his brow and a smile that a tour guide would kill for. "

"See? I told you," Catherine replies proudly, as she moves my shirt aside like its some sort of achievement that she was the one to mark me.

Greg gapes. "Jesus, Catherine! Are you Nosferatu, or have you just been skipping too many meals, lately?"

Catherine giggles at this. "Look, as you've guessed by now, Sara and I are dating; we have been since our training course. We hadn't told you so far because it really hasn't been all that long, but neither of us wanted to hide it any longer, not in front of our best friends."

Warrick claps his hand against his leg. "I told you they were doing the nasty."

Nick scrutinises us both carefully. "You guys are still pulling a fast one; I don't doubt you two are friends now, but lovers? I don't think so."

I lean over Catherine and move her collar aside, exposing a patch of pink skin on her shoulder. "Believe it now?"

"No. Sorry, but anybody can give themselves a hickey. I used to do it in college when I…" he goes bright red, and shuts up.

I sigh and look at Catherine, but before I have chance to say anything, she's grabbed me and clamps her lips around mine. She kisses me so passionately that I have to wonder if when she pulls her away, whether my lungs will be winking at me from between her teeth. There's another shocked silence, as she eventually leans back, and grins at the guys.

"Believe it now?" she asks breathlessly with a huge grin, face slightly flushed.

Nick flashes her one of his lazy grins. "Damn it, you two just cost me a C note."

"Oh, how sweet it is," Warrick says, as he collects the hundred dollar bill from Nick, who looks somewhat stoical about losing his money.

Greg on the other hand, still looks somewhat shell shocked.

"You guys are okay about this, right?" I ask, my gaze not wavering in the slightest. "The last thing I want is for things to change between us, just because Cath and I are together, so if you got any problems, tell us."

"Hey, if you guys are happy, it's okay with me," Warrick gives us a warm smile. "It's a whole lot better than seeing you two duke it out."

"And besides," Nick pipes up, "there was all that tension, and you were obviously checking each other out, we might be guys but we're not completely stupid. I think it's really sweet, you're perfect for each other," he gives us a big smile and the thumbs up.

"Greg?" Catherine asks, noticing he's quiet.

"Give me a minute," he grins and goes back to looking dreamy.

"Quit that, you little stain," Nick smacks him on the back of the head. "If you have to lust over somebody, think about Giselle."

"You just couldn't resist it could you, big mouth?" He rounds on Nick and pouts at him. "How about I kick your ass back to Texas?"

"How about I forget you said that, and don't break your fingers?" Nick grins when Greg goes pale and nods.

"Sounds fair," he says, his voice a couple of octaves higher than usual.

"Now now kiddies, are we finally finished or do I have to smack some ass?" Grissom chuckles, and Greg immediately sits down, and tries not to get noticed, just in case he's first.

"We're finished, thanks Gil," Catherine smiles at him, grateful that he left us to get on with it and didn't intervene until everything was sorted out.

"Right, 419 out in Winchester. I'll give this one to the hickey twins," Grissom chuckles, as we both groan and the ribbing starts all over again.

I've spent much of the rest of the night moving around in a sort of perpetual post-coital haze. I can relax now that everybody seems to know about us, and most of our problems appear to be sorted. The grin on my face is about to become a permanent fixture, and so is the dumb drooling look I have whenever Catherine enters a room. I'm not the only one, however. Catherine has been wandering around with much the same look, which only stops when she wears a shit eating grin whenever I enter a room looking as if I'm drooling. It's an established cycle, and you get the picture.

"Hey babe, you're never gonna believe this," I say, as I walk through Catherine's open office doorway.

"What's that?"

"Remember Jim Hughes claimed he wasn't home at the time of his wife's murder?" I wait for confirmation she's listening, and I get a nod of her head. "Well, he's lying. He left his office at 5pm, and his next door neighbour remembers him getting home at 5:30. He didn't leave again until after 8, and not 7:30 as he claimed."

"Won't necessarily hold up in court," she replies, looking around the room distractedly, "we need physical evidence placing him at the scene."

"I might be able to help you out there. I picked up the results of the swabs on the murder weapon…we found his epithelials on the handle of the knife, and he's got previous for domestic violence. Vega's gonna take him into PD for questioning, he'll let us know when he's ready."

"Mmm."

"Thanks wouldn't go amiss," I tease.

"Thanks, now shut up."

"I knew you could be cranky but tonight you've excelled yourself. What happened to still being on a high after the night we had last night? Not to mention the three times you had your wicked way with me this morning."

"I have other things on my mind at the moment," she replies quietly, her eyes fixed on something as she speaks.

"Oh that's just great, I like how easily you've forgotten," I'm grumpy; she should still be drooling over my skills as a lover, and at least be demanding more, noisily.

"I haven't forgotten, and now is not the time to embark on one of your tongue twisting rants, Sidle."

"Sometimes I could quite cheerfully put my hands around your neck, and…" I suddenly shut up, when I realise she could easily asphyxiate on her own by the looks of it.

"Shh," she says again, more insistent this time even though I'd already shut my yapper.

"Are you okay? I mean, you're a little red in the face, you're not gonna stroke out on me are ya?" I ask, fervently hoping the answer would be no.

"Stop talking and get your ass over here," Catherine slowly stands up, and pushes her chair back.

It's only when Catherine begins to climb on her desk that I really begin to worry. What in god's name is she doing, and will it leave more marks on me?

"I know I pissed you off last week when Greg and I put that blow up doll in your locker as a joke, but…" just the memory of the look on her face makes me want to laugh.

"Will you just get over here?" Catherine says again, clearly annoyed that I'm not doing as I'm told.

I see another opportunity to wind her up, and I'm going to take it.

"Look Catherine, as gorgeous as you are and everything sweetheart, I really don't think christening your desk is a good idea," I move closer to the desk, and stand beside her.

Catherine doesn't seem to be listening, and crawls even closer. The top couple of buttons on her shirt are open, and it falls away to reveal rather more of her cleavage than should be legal. Does that stop me from taking a quick glance? God no, but do I feel bad about it? Oh yes. Bad enough to steal another quick glance? Definitely not. To hell with it, I'll take a third glance and I'll make up for it later by feeling three times as guilty. Then I suddenly realise we're together, and I don't have to feel guilty for looking anymore. Oh my god, this is brilliant.

"Rough sex on your desk during shift is risky, the door is open and anyone could walk in," I grin, but I might as well be talking to myself, as she shuffles closer toward me and shows no sign that she's listening.

"Stand closer to me; and for god sake keep still," Catherine orders, and leans over the side of her desk, as she scans the floor.

"Now what?" I wonder what her next order will be.

"Stand very still, and tell me what you see."

"Er," I reply as she scans around the office. "Absolutely nothing. Should I have?"

"Good, now please get me the fuck out of here," Catherine suddenly jumps on my back, and clings on for dear life.

"I was right, wasn't I?" I sigh, and bite my lip to stop from laughing. "This is some kind of Dominatrix thing."

"Baby, should I be worried? I never realised you were this obsessed with sex," she replies quietly in my ear.

"I'm not, I'm merely wondering why you're hanging onto me like a porn star."

"If you could put one foot in front of the other, and get me out of here, then I'd explain."

"I'm not moving till you do," I fold my arms, and grimace when Catherine tightens her arms around my neck. "'athrine…need…air!"

"Sorry," she releases the pressure, slightly. "One of Gil's _things _is on the loose."

"Things?"

"Creepy crawly, creature, thingies."

"Oh you mean that," I point to the floor, seeing a completely harmless tarantula crawling along sedately.

Catherine squeals loudly, almost deafening me in the process. She clamps her knees together tighter around my waist, squashing my ribs in a death grip, and knocking the air out of my lungs again.

"Yes, I mean that! Hurry up and get me out of here before it bites!"

I'm seriously trying not to laugh, as I suck much needed air into my lungs. And I'm seriously going to milk this for all its worth.

"Now listen, Willows! Breathe easy, don't panic, and whatever you do, don't let go of me. This thing is extremely dangerous, and I need to make sure it doesn't go anywhere. I'm going to grab this plastic box here, and contain it. Then when I've done that, we'll make a run for it, okay?"

"Okay, but for god sake be careful, I don't want it to bite you, and whatever you do, don't drop me," Catherine replies, hyperventilating in my ear at the thought of us going anywhere near it.

I suppress the urge to laugh, yet again, and grab the nearby plastic box. I inch closer to the spider, as if pretending not to startle it so that it wouldn't turn and bite us. Leaning down, I get ready to place the box over the spider, and hear Catherine swear loudly, as she grips my shoulders tighter when I lean over much further than I need to on purpose. I pause for a few seconds, until I sense her fear level go up another notch, and decide my teasing has gone far enough. I slip the box over the spider, and quickly straighten up.

"Right, let's go, before it eats its way through the container," I run from the room, with Catherine still firmly latched onto my back.

We get some curious looks as I stride along the hallways, looking for all the world as if I didn't realise I'm carrying Catherine Willows along with me as a sort of a human backpack. As we enter the break room, Greg jumps up from his chair and smiles lasciviously at us both.

"Hey Ladies," he winks. "I gotta say, Sara, Catherine looks _very_ good on you."

"Greg do me a favour will you?" I grab a soda from the fridge, and wonder if Catherine is still breathing, since she's not made a move to let go of me.

"What do you need?"

"Go to Cath's office, pick Daisy up and take her back to Grissom would you, please? She's under a Tupperware box."

"Aww did she get out again?" Greg's face softens into a goofy grin. "That's three times this week. But wait, on second thoughts, do it yourself. Every time I walk into Grissom's office, he gets that damn tea set out and forces me to drink his special blend."

"Kinky," I say with a laugh. "Serves you right, will teach you to lust over Giselle in future."

"Daisy?" Catherine suddenly growls, her hands dangerously close to my jugular. "Are you telling me that spider isn't dangerous?"

"That's exactly what we're telling you," Greg says helpfully, with a nod.

Catherine jumps down and rounds on me. "You mean to tell me, you had me thinking I was about to die, and planning all sorts of ways to thank you for saving my life, and it's not even dangerous?!"

"Now, now baby, calm down," I put my soda can down, and giggle at the flushed look on her face.

"Calm down?" she begins advancing on me. "If I were you, Sidle, I'd seriously think about running because when I catch up with you, you'll be sorry."

Something tells me that she's deadly serious, and now she wouldn't be fighting fair. I must have a weird sense of humour, because this just makes me laugh even harder. That is, until I see exactly what her intention is.

"You wouldn't dare, would you?" my eyes widen, as I see Catherine holding onto a tub of white powder, which I recognise as Ninhydrin.

"I would," an evil grin settles on her features. "As soon as this came into contact with your skin, you'd be purple for a week; no amount of washing would help."

Heads peek curiously over monitors as an unusual sight flies past their windows. Sara Sidle running at top speed, with Catherine Willows hot on her heels. I power past bemused looking colleagues as I skid around a corner, and notice she's gaining on me. I shoot through the exit into the parking lot and by the time I make it to the safety of my vehicle, she's caught me and has me pinned up against the door. I'm laughing so hard that I can't fight her off.

"You might wanna think about apologising now," her eyes twinkle, as she hooks a finger inside the waistband of my jeans and pulls, creating a space that she dangles the tub over.

"You wouldn't dare!" I'm still laughing, but can't help noticing the way she's glancing down at the gap between my stomach and my jeans.

"Wouldn't I?" she raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me, and I notice how beautiful she looks tonight, her face flushed and eyes shining brightly.

"If you pour that down there, you know what will happen."

"Yeah, you'll have an interesting dye job that you can't really show to anyone, but me," she laughs throatily at this.

"Okay, okay," I say in-between laughing. "What do you want in return?"

"Hmmm, what do I want?" she grins at me wickedly. "Repeat after me…"

"After me," I giggle and hold my hands up when she moves the tub closer to me.

"Repeat after me…I'm sorry I put a sex doll in your locker, after dressing it in your court suit. I'm sorry for frightening you half to death with it, and then taking a picture of the look on your face and pinning it on the wall in the break room. I'm also sorry I gave you the impression you were about to be savaged to death by Daisy. You're the best girlfriend in the world. Not to mention, being a talented, intelligent and frankly sexy individual."

"Aww thanks Cath, I didn't know you cared," I snigger, grab the pot from her, and hold it higher than she can reach.

"Hey! That's not playing fair, you're taller than I am," she grumps, as she thrusts her bottom lip out.

It's about to get worse, far worse, and she could quite possibly kill me for doing it. I take hold of her hand, and lead her around to the back of the Tahoe, away from prying eyes. She willingly follows me, because at the moment we have to make out at least every thirty seconds to a minute, in order to keep the withdrawal symptoms at bay.

"You love me being taller, because you like being curled up in my arms," I press her up against the back of the Tahoe, and capture her lips in a hungry kiss.

"Mmmm I do," she says breathlessly, squirming when I lift her shirt a little higher so I can caress her soft skin.

"You also like it when I tickle your stomach," I move my fingers as she growls softly.

"Wait a minute, what are you up to?" she gives me a suspicious look, and stands upright, before lifting her shirt. "Sara Sidle!"

I quickly screw the cap on the Ninhydrin again, wave it at her, and begin giggling when she realises the movement of my hand wasn't random. Nor are the purple markings on her stomach. Someone, and in this case that would be me, has scrawled a message on her skin. And judging by the look on her face, I'm beginning to doubt that what I've written will actually make up for it.

"Oh my god, I can't believe what you've just done!" she wets a finger and begins scrubbing away, but knows it's useless.

"Did you actually read it?"

"I don't bend that fucking way!" she rolls her eyes, as I break out into fits of laughter.

"Follow me," I take hold of her hand, and angle the wing mirror on the Tahoe down so that she can see her stomach. "I know it's gonna be backwards but still, you get the idea."

She stands on tippy toe so that she can get a better look, and then freezes when she realises what I've done. She's either really touched by it, or she's scared, I can't quite work out which. I hadn't planned on telling her yet, but last night, not to mention this morning, changed everything for me. I'd already more than hinted at the fact, but it isn't the same as coming out and saying the words, and I always suspected that just like me, Catherine needed something concrete to reassure her.

She changes her focus from the mirror, to the purple markings on her stomach, and runs a hand over them softly. Three little words: I love you. When she looks up at me, her eyes are glistening in the low level light.

"You love me?" she asks, barely above a whisper, the look on her face one of tentative hope.

"Catherine Willows, I love you to distraction," I rub my thumb gently across her cheekbone. "Like I told you, I have done ever since the day we worked the Dantini case, but I think you needed me to say it."

She nods, running her tongue over her lips in the way she does when I know she's going to cry. "I love you, too."

I pull her into my arms and she holds on tightly to me. She's definitely going to cry. Oh god, don't cry Willows, or you'll kick me off and I'll be sat here for the remainder of my shift in a gloopy puddle because you cried on me. Too late, she's crying on me.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks, and buries her face in my neck.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," damn, now I'm crying too, when did I turn into such a soppy idiot?

Oh yeah, I know, right around the time I realised she was my life and I'd do anything for her.

She looks up at me, with a huge tearful smile. "I love you, so much."

"I love you too, baby," my smile is cut short when she claims my lips once more, yet again stealing my oxygen in the process.

The minute we walk back into the lab, Grissom almost knocks us over as he goes flying past us down the hallway. Grissom very rarely moves anywhere in a hurry, he's the epitome of cool, calm and collected, usually. Having said that, visions of my boss staggering around in heels somehow shatters that illusion. I wonder if there's an emergency of some sort, but I discount that. Grissom wouldn't run even if Einstein showed up in reception.

"Did you see that?" I ask, as her gaze follows mine.

"Yeah, Grissom went running past here like somebody had dipped his pants in gasoline and set his ass alight," Catherine replies, as I giggle at the thought.

"Oo oo oo oo," he suddenly comes running back down the hallway toward us, flapping his hands around like Mr Bean. "I need your advice on something, ladies."

"Quit running like that for one," I reply with a grin, "makes you look really nerdy."

He rolls his eyes at me, a half smile on his lips. "Not that kind of advice. Curtains."

"Cloth attachments that hang on a pole, usually to cover up that square thing in a wall called a window," Catherine offers, with a cheeky grin.

"I'm really going off of the pair of you," he purses his lips, before he reaches over and straightens my collar. "You know, you really should learn how to iron your shirts."

"I know how to iron my collars! It's this shirt, it just refuses to sit straight," I glare at him, knowing what's coming next. "And don't even think about saying it, I got into enough trouble last time."

"All I said was that you might benefit from having Catherine do your ironing."

"Yeah thanks for that, I had to endure a half hour's worth of feminist rant from her on the subject the last time you suggested it," I say with a scowl.

"I told you there was no way I was doing it until you moved in. I'm not your wife, or your slave," Catherine replies, clearly warming up to the subject again.

"You were happy to pretend to be both last night," I say with an evil grin as she flushes, and gets a dreamy look on her face.

"I'm not even going to ask," he waves a hand at us. "But let me know if you do decide to move in together, I've got a lovely floral pattern tea set you girls could have," he says, as he slips into eccentric old auntie mode again.

"Hey, put the brakes on, sister," I point a warning finger at him. "You know how motivated she is. Once she gets an idea into her head, there's no stopping her."

"God, it's nice to know I'm loved," Catherine elbows me in the side and pretends to make a big production of taking offence. "There's me thinking you'd be overjoyed at the prospect of us spending the rest of our lives together. Well don't bother; I'm not even going to ask."

"See what you've done?" I sigh dramatically, and fold my arms. "I'm not speaking to you now, Grissom."

"Now come on, you know you love your Auntie Giselle," he wiggles his hips slightly, running a hand through his hair, as Catherine bursts out laughing and I look at him in horror.

"Give it a few weeks Gil, I might be able to persuade her," She winks at him. "Failing that, I'll bump her off and get a younger model."

"Technically we're already living together, because I stayed the night and never went home again, but it also technically isn't official. Give it six months and I might decide I want my legal rights upholding. Then and only then, will you get to control me, spend all my money, make my life an absolute misery, and finally murder me if you so choose."

"Oh that reminds me, Jim Hughes was apparently meant to be meeting another one of our Vic's tonight," Grissom pushes his glasses up his nose.

"What? Who?" Catherine folds her arms, ready to get her teeth stuck into a good mystery.

"Tasha Quinnell, aged 34 from Summerlin. Her body was found in suite 203 at Mandalay Bay. She had his driving licence among her personal effects, and her best friend claims they were having an affair. Maybe it was a two for one night, and he thought he'd dispose of them both."

"Certainly sounds like it. Vega is bringing him into PD for questioning," she replies. "We're just waiting on his call to head over there."

"Oh excellent. Can I come with?"

"That depends," I reply, as they both turn to look at me. "You need to behave. Going anywhere with you, is the equivalent of taking a trip out with your mother. No straightening my collars, asking if I'm eating properly, or telling me I look a little pale and should cut out caffeine."

"I'm not that bad, am I?" he asks, and I suspect he wouldn't change, even if he was told that he is.

"Don't listen to her, you're not that bad," Catherine pats him on the arm. "I tell her exactly the same things, and she doesn't listen to me, either."

"I hope you know he's been cleaning your office, Catherine," I chuckle evilly, as he goes a little pink in the face.

"You did what?" she asks, looking askance at him.

"I tidied up a few times in there. You think I overstepped?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Come round to the house, you can overstep there too," Catherine replies, with a laugh.

"Right ladies, are we gonna stand here all night yacking, or are we actually gonna get some work done?" Shit, now I'm channeling Grissom.

"Oh fudge," he stamps his foot like a toddler, as Catherine buries her face in my shoulder and convulses with laughter. "I can't, I desperately need to pick out some new curtains. The ones in my apartment are très ugly, and I want them replacing before Terri arrives in two weeks time. I simply must co-ordinate my soft furnishings; I don't know why I have never done this."

Oh god, somebody please make it stop. Once it reaches the interior design stage, and he's using words like 'très' and 'soft furnishings' you know there's no hope. I only have to catch him carrying a purse to crime scenes, and I'm going to put in for a transfer.

"Get Greg to do it, the little rat has been hanging around the lab all night looking shifty," Catherine suggests, as we spot him skulking around at the other end of the corridor.

"Good idea," Grissom's eyes light up. "Give me five, and I'll be with you. GREGORY! Come here my boy, I need you to help me with some curtains."

We both giggle as we watch Greg take off at a trot, while Grissom minces along after him.

"I have said this before, and I'll say it again, I'm not working in a lab, I'm working in a mental health facility with a bunch of lunatics," I say, feeling as if I've just stepped into the twilight zone again, which seems to be happening a lot lately.

She chuckles, and takes hold of my hand, pulling me in the direction of her office. "I like the new Grissom, but he sure as hell better hadn't develop PMS or I'm transferring to dayshift."

"I was thinking the same just a few minutes ago, when I could picture him turning up to crime scenes with a string of pearls around his neck and clutching a purse as he got a good look at the victim," I reply, as she throws her head back, and laughs.

"Seems we've created a monster, maybe we should start calling him Grissomstein."

"Good idea, I've been telling him for years it's about time he got his bolts tightened," I grin as she laughs again. "It's the Doc I feel sorry for though. Could you imagine coming home after a hard day's work, slaving over a microscope to find Grissom wearing a frilly apron, and waving a potholder about as he tells you dinner is served?"

"On the bright side, he'll never complain about the amount of clothes or shoes that she buys."

"True, but you never know whether he's actually going to ask to borrow them."

She shakes her head with a grimace. "Stop, I'm getting evil visuals now."

"Focus on your fantasies instead," I grin, as we enter her office, and I close the door behind us.

"I'm focusing on them," she says with a seductive grin, as she pushes me up against the door. "And just what would be your fantasy?"

"Feisty little redheads with blue eyes, and more passion than you could wave a shillelagh at," I say, as the mental drooling starts up, which is never a great sign because the physical drooling soon follows, as does the vacant look in my eyes.

"Mmmmmm," Catherine murmurs, before she presses her leg in-between mine, and proceeds to show me just how passionate she can be.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

I should've been a cop, and then I could have legitimately arrested the asshole in front of me who decides that 15mph is the perfect speed to sightsee by. Doesn't matter that he's got an entire line of vehicles backed up behind him, all honking their horns, and trying to take a shortcut through my trunk. Nope, he's way focused on taking pictures, and simultaneously talking on his mobile phone while the rest of us age rapidly in his wake. On any other morning, I'd take all of this in my stride, but today is Lindsey's birthday and I'm desperate to get home. I transferred some of my vacation time to Catherine so that she could be there for Lindsey this weekend, and I've worked like a maniac all night just so I could get off shift in time.

I hate the traffic in Vegas, not to mention some of the tourists. I mean I know it's been billed as the city that never sleeps but hell, who wants to cruise past the Stratosphere at 7am, whilst waving their precious little camera around with a 150 different functions you'll never use, which comes complete with a manual, that wouldn't look out of place on the space station. Shouldn't the genetic defective be sleeping in his hotel room like normal people, instead of clogging up my stretch of fucking road? Is it too much to ask that I get home before Lindsey becomes eligible for her bus pass?

"Come on, speedy! Put your foot down man! One glance at the guidebook will confirm that there's a lot to do in Vegas, and you'll never see anything unless you fucking speed it up a little!" I'm turning into one of those crazy women that you see on the freeway, screaming at passing vehicles and making rude gestures. "Yes, that's it you moron, put the cell phone down and grab the wheel instead. That thing on the floor of your car isn't just for decoration, it's a gas pedal and it makes the car move faster! My granny could drive faster than you and she's dead!"

I tell you, I get any closer to the guy in front and I'll be arrested for lewd behaviour. This is where I miss Catherine's driving skills. I'll sit here all day so as not to cause an accident or endanger other road users. Catherine on the other hand would have pulled this fuckwit over, slapped him stupid and immobilised both him and his vehicle, by delivering a swift kick to the nuts.

"Do I look like I wanna spend the rest of my life on this road, assmunch?!" I carry on complaining. "Hurry the fuck up, some of us have a life, and we'd like to get home to it!"

Oooh I have a life! Shit eating grin time, methinks. I'd do a happy dance in my seat, but I'm told unless you have both hands in plain view, you can easily get arrested for that too. Finally, the asshole in front makes a left turn and the rest of us are able to drive at the normal speed again, so that pretty soon I'm pulling up in Catherine's driveway.

I check to make sure that the door is unlocked like Catherine said it would be, and that Lindsey's not hanging around. When I see the coast is clear, I quickly pull her gift from the trunk, sneak it up the driveway, and then hide it in the closet in the hall. I hang my jacket up, and put my car keys in my pocket as I sigh in contentment, it feels so good to be home.

"Hey, where's my two special girls?"

"In the kitchen, sweetheart," Catherine's voice drifts through.

"Hey hey, where's the birthday girl?" I trot into the kitchen with a smile on my face.

Lily is there, looking like she's sucking on a bag of lemons, while Catherine looks up at me with a homicidal expression. God, you can tell I just walked in the door. Now, I've had some experience of this before, I seemed to have caused this reaction in most of the women I dated and so I wonder what I've done now. But it's then that I suddenly notice Lindsey is crying, from where she's being cradled on Catherine's lap.

"What's the matter?" I ask, standing awkwardly in the doorway, as I begin worrying.

"Eddie," Catherine says quietly, as she rocks Lindsey back and forth.

Bastard. Okay, I don't know what he's done yet, but he's still a big bastard. Lily gets up and bustles about the kitchen, and I can tell she's upset too.

"Would you like some coffee, Sara?" she asks me, with a small smile.

"Yes, please, if it's no trouble," I smile back at her, as I approach Catherine and Lindsey.

"No trouble at all."

"Happy Birthday puddin', how you doing?" I kneel down beside Catherine, placing my arm around her shoulders as I run my fingers through Lindsey's baby soft hair.

"Hey Sara, I'm okay," she hiccups tearfully.

"I missed you last night, couldn't wait to get home to see you," I say as Catherine pulls me in for a hug, and I wrap my arms around them both.

"I missed you too," Lindsey murmurs with the ghost of a smile.

She buries her face in her mother's shoulder, and Catherine smiles sadly at me, as she rests her forehead against mine. I rub the back of her neck and the feel the tension, and I think I can guess what happened, and if I'm right then Eddie deserves a really long, good, kick in the teeth. She sighs softly, as I brush my lips across hers in a good morning kiss.

"Lindsey, honey," Catherine says, several minutes later, "I need to make a phone call, will you sit with Sara for a moment?"

She nods, and as Catherine hands her to me, she buries her face in my neck and fresh tears start. I sit on the chair Catherine has just vacated, and I rock Lindsey back and forth gently, while I watch her mother angrily stabbing out a number, and pressing the phone to her ear, whilst she paces back and forth.

"There there, sweetie pie, don't cry. I've got you," I run my fingers through her hair again, as her little body shakes against me, and I attempt to swallow the lump painfully forming in my throat.

"There you go, Sara," Lily touches me gently on the shoulder as she puts my cup on the table.

"Thanks Mrs F, you're an angel."

"You're very welcome, dear," she pats me on the shoulder again, and takes a seat

"No answer," Catherine ends the call, and stops pacing long enough to place the phone back on the table.

"Doing okay there, baby?" I ask Lindsey, as I pull her closer and rub her back.

"I'm okay," she says croakily, and snuggles into me again.

"What happened, Cath?"

"Eddie isn't coming to Lindsey's party," she says calmly, the expression on her face belying the anger in her body language. "He won't be by today to say happy birthday, or drop a gift off, he didn't even call. He had Charlotte do it instead."

I was right, he's a bastard. An 18 carat, bastard and the next time I see him, I'm going have to trouble restraining myself from breaking his legs.

The phone rings, and Catherine snatches it up. "Hello? Yes, Charlotte, I did call," she keeps her voice level. "Please, could you just put Eddie on the phone?"

There's a tense few minutes of Catherine pacing erratically, before she stops dead in her tracks, and grips the phone tightly enough to break it in two, her knuckles white as her jaw bunches and her eyes blaze with anger.

"Eddie, I swear to god, when I get my hands on you…no don't even start with that you selfish bastard. Lindsey is crying her eyes out because you can't even be bothered to wish her a happy birthday yourself. What kind of a goddamn father are you, anyway?"

That's how I know that Catherine is absolutely livid. Ordinarily she wouldn't say a bad word against Eddie in front of Lindsey if she could help it, claiming that even though she knew he was the biggest liar on two legs, she still wanted her daughter to respect her father.

Lindsey looks up at me, her bright blue eyes swollen from crying. "Why won't Daddy come? Doesn't he love me anymore?"

"Of course he loves you, honey," I wipe her tears away, wishing I could make things better for her. "He loves you very much."

"Then why isn't he here?" she dissolves into tears again, and I tighten my grip on her as I try to soothe her.

"I don't know, baby, I wish I did," I say quietly, the words burning my throat as I say them, because I wish I didn't have to.

Catherine stops pacing and glances down at her daughter, an expression of raw pain passing across her face. She then looks up at me, and I reach out to hold her hand. I feel the tension flowing from her, and she becomes angrier by the minute as she listens to something she evidently doesn't want to hear on the other end of the phone.

"I've heard some poor excuses over the years, Ed, but that's got to be one of the worst. I warned you what would happen if you started screwing around, and I meant it. I don't want you seeing her anymore, not until you can learn to be a proper father," she says, and I hear him protesting loudly as she clicks the phone off.

I wrap my arm around Catherine's shoulders again as she takes a seat beside me, and leans into us. Lindsey hugs us closer, and asks her mom why her Daddy doesn't love her like other Dads love their kids. Catherine tries to make excuses for him, to minimise Lindsey's pain, and soon they're both crying into my neck, while I desperately bite my tongue to keep my tears at bay. It fails, and as I look over at Lily, I see she too is wiping a stray tear from her eye.

I've never felt this angry before, how could he do that to Lindsey? She's such a sweet little girl, and he should want to move heaven and earth just to be there when she needs him. She shudders against me again, it breaks my heart, and I've decided restraint be damned. Next time I see Eddie, I might just treat myself and break his legs after all.

"I don't want a party," Lindsey snuffles.

"Oh honey, why not? You were so excited," Catherine wipes Lindsey's eyes, and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"I don't feel like it."

"Ah man, that means I gotta call Greg, and tell him not to bother bringing his Britney Spears records," I pout, and Lindsey's laughter suddenly tinkles around the room.

"He'll be heartbroken," Catherine nods, "He was looking forward to having fun with you guys, but I guess we'll just have to call him and tell him the party is off."

Lindsey looks down at her lap; an inner struggle taking place. She's feeling upset about her father but was excited about her party too. "We could have the party still, I guess. I don't want to make Uncle Greg sad."

"A party is better than sitting at home watching cartoons all day. Don't tell anyone but, I can't watch Scooby Doo anymore, because I realised Velma reminds me of your Uncle Gil," I tell her as she starts wriggling with laughter again.

"You can't watch cartoons all day anyway, you promised to take us shopping," Catherine says, with an evil expression.

"Nooo," I shake my head and pout again. "Lindsey can drive you. I'll stay home, play Barbies."

"No way, Sara. I caught you driving over Ken's legs yesterday with his car 'cause he hit on Sindy while Barbie was at the beach…again," Lindsey looks at me sternly, as Lily bursts out laughing.

Catherine grins as I go bright red. "I think we should get her back for breaking Ken's legs then, maybe drag her around the mall for a while, so we can choose a new outfit, huh kiddo?"

Lindsey smiles and nods her head eagerly. "I like that idea."

"Tell you what then, if you hurry up, not only will I take you all for breakfast, but I'll let you into a little secret," I wink at her.

"Oh, what is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret now would it? Go wash your face, and put your shoes on ratfink, before I torture you instead of Ken," I cross my eyes and pull a funny face, as I tickle her ribs.

"I love you, you big goofball," she gives me a wide grin, and holds onto my ears with her little hands, as she rubs her nose against mine Eskimo fashion.

I take her in my arms, and hug her soundly, the feeling in my heart threatening to overwhelm me. "I love you too, Linds."

"Now will you tell me what the secret is?" she looks between her mother and I.

"Should we tell her?" Catherine asks, as Lindsey bounces around again, and I nod. "Linds, check in the closet in the hallway, baby. There's something in there for you."

She runs off and several seconds later, we hear squealing and chants of 'oh my god, a new bike'. She comes flying back into the kitchen, jumps all over us, and gabbles something about how cool we are before leaving the room just as quickly as she arrived.

"We're popular," Catherine grins.

"Dunno why you're popular, but I'm just too cute for words," I shrug with a sigh, trying to look casual about the entire thing.

"You're also very good with my granddaughter," Lily stands up with a smile. "I can see why both Catherine and Lindsey love you, and I want to apologise for the way I've behaved."

"No Lily, not necessary," I shake my head with a smile.

"Yes it is, Nancy was right about you, you are indeed a wonderful woman, and I'm very happy that Catherine is with you," she smiles. "It's long overdue, but welcome to the family, Sara."

"Thank you, that's very sweet of you," I smile, and hold out my arms. "Can I get a hug?"

"As long as your hands don't wander. I know you think I'm attractive, you said so last week, right after calling me a lump," Lily snorts with laughter, and leans over to hug me.

"Never gonna live that down," I blush as I laugh.

"Nobody ever does in this family, consider yourself no different," she winks at me when she leans back. "I'll go see if Lindsey is okay."

"You're even more popular than I thought," Catherine says with a grin, as she sits on my lap and threads her arms around my neck, before kissing me soundly.

"I can't help it, I think I'm naturally adorable," my expression approaches angelic.

"Yeah right," she scoffs, with a laugh. "I missed you last night, the bed felt so empty without you."

"Aaww I missed you too, cutey pie, but I'll be here tonight, and I can slide my arms around you like this," I demonstrate, as I pull her even closer, "and hold you all night long."

Catherine moans softly, and kisses me almost to the point of me passing out. When she pulls back, I'm wearing a dopey grin, and can see spots in front of my eyes.

"What was that for?"

"For being you, for being there for Lindsey the way you are, and because I love you so much, sweetheart," she then places another gentle kiss against my lips. "Besides, I know how much you hate shopping, so I'm attempting to make it up to you."

"I do hate shopping, in fact, I would rather nail my nipples to the cross-town bus," I smile grimly as she laughs. "And I love you too, sexy."

She kisses me again, and answers before I can ask. "And that was for picking Lindsey's bike up; I couldn't have done it without her finding out."

"No problem, it was a pleasure, you know I'll do absolutely anything to see either of you smile. I know it won't make up for not having her father here, but anything I can do is more than worth the effort just to see her happy."

Catherine doesn't say anything, just holds me tighter and nearly breaks my ribs.

"Cath?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Could you ease up a little? You're squashin' my lungs, babe," I say, as she sticks her tongue out at me. "Oh, and if you're quick in getting ready, I might even have a surprise for you as well."

"Sara, you so much as wave a car battery at me, and you're dead," she raises an eyebrow at me and giggles.

"Damn it, that's bedtime ruined. How do you always know?" I shake my head and click my fingers in mock disappointment, as she smiles brightly before pressing her lips against mine again, kissing me passionately enough to make my head spin for the second time in the last five minutes.

***

My god, what is it with women and shopping? I have read about expeditions to the North Pole that didn't last as long as this. She did say she was almost ready to go home, but that was two hours ago, and we're still waiting on her finding an outfit. I have a horrible feeling I'm gonna die of old age somewhere between JC Penney and the food court. I guess I should tell her to go ahead and pick out another outfit now too, to save me missing my own funeral. Even Lily couldn't stand it much longer and planted herself in the coffee shop, refusing to move until its time to go home.

"What do you think of this one, honey?" Catherine asks, as she holds a red dress against herself.

"Beautiful. The style suits you, and it brings out the colour of your eyes," I reply honestly. Okay, I might not have gotten such a bad deal here, I'm always looking for reasons to drool, and this is perfect.

"Not sure I like it," she frowns, and puts it back on the rail.

If she didn't like it, why did she ask? I swear women are almost still a complete mystery to me. Although just recently, I have endeavoured to figure out the female psyche, and being one hasn't helped in the slightest. I mean lets face it, how many of us have had a hissy fit, and then ten minutes later, stood back and scratched our heads and wondered what it was all about? So if I can't figure myself out, I've got no hope in hell of figuring Catherine out.

Have we as a gender always been like this, though? I bet hundreds of years back female warriors had to pre-book battles, or set them back a couple of weeks because they couldn't manage to get an appointment at the hairdressers. Maybe their wardrobe was seriously lacking, and they didn't have a thing to get mown down in. I can just imagine the sheer horror they must have felt, when their outfit didn't quite match the colour of their chariot.

"What about this one?" she asks, this time the dress is blue, and although it's perfectly nice, it's less sexy than the other one.

"It's pretty, but the red one was nicer," I reply, as she puts it down and moves off like a supermodel with a major case of the grumps, and if shopping makes her grumpy, why is she doing it?

She carries on looking, and still I wonder why she's asking me anyway. I differ from a lot of females in that my sartorial experience is somewhat limited. Most days I just grab whatever I can find to wear, and cross my fingers and hope that it doesn't look like I got dressed during a blackout.

This happens to piss Catherine off, because she claimed I manage to get it just right and end up looking too sexy in her opinion. I had to check to make sure she wasn't high, and then explained that it was more good luck than good management. Everybody knows I can't be all that stylish; I have Scooby Doo jammies for god sake.

"Little black number?" she holds up another dress, while I pick my tongue up off the floor.

"Oh that's perfect," I grin, it's kinda short but still long enough to be decent, and will show her legs off perfectly.

"No need to ask why you like it, huh?" she giggles, and keeps hold of it while she continues her search.

"Definitely not. Suffice it to say, we'll see plenty of your legs," I answer, as Catherine winks at me with a knowing smile, because she's all too aware of the effect she has on me.

Oh that's a positive sign; I've gained brownie points there. I'm quickly beginning to learn the all important rules here, if a woman smiles and she has a reason, breathe a sigh of relief and marvel at how beautiful the world is. If a woman smiles and she doesn't have a reason to, like she should be royally pissed instead, then for god sake put her head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye, because you're in trouble and not even divine intervention would put a halt to her wrath.

And just for your protection, for god sake pay attention to her because the demands will all have changed tomorrow, and you're twice as likely to drop yourself in it as you were the day before. If it just so happens she's suffering from PMS, or has an 'off day' as she likes to call it, then go dig yourself a bunker in the back yard and hole up until its your turn to have PMS, whereupon you can very easily get your own back and the score will be evened out until the next round. Of course, when your better half goes postal on you, it doesn't always require PMS. Think of PMS as an expansion pack, she'll find it useful with all the little optional extras it brings but it ain't required to tell your ass off, and she knows it.

"Ewwww, you guys!" Lindsey complains. "Mom, hurry up. I want to get home in time for my party."

"I won't be long, Linds."

"Mom?!" Lindsey pipes up, a mere thirty seconds later.

"Yes, honey?" Catherine pauses, and looks over the rail at her.

"Get the black one, and let's get out of here before I'm thirty. You always choose black anyway, makes your butt look smaller," she says, looking and sounding so much like a younger version of her mother.

Catherine's speechless for a moment, and then a snort of laughter escapes her lips. She puts the other items back and we follow her to the changing room, whilst she slips inside a booth and tries the black dress on. Lindsey yawns and leans against me, her early start having tuckered her out, and at this rate she won't be up very late.

I dig my phone from my pocket as it rings, and absentmindedly play with Lindsey's hair. "Sidle."

"Oh baby girl, you'll never believe what happened!" John begins gabbling on the other end. "Wait a minute, where's Catherine."

"She's just trying a dress on. We're shopping for an outfit for Lindsey's party," I say as she comes out of the booth in the dress. "Hang on a minute, sweetie."

"What do you think?" Catherine turns this way and that in front of the mirror, as she smoothes the dress over her curves.

"You don't wanna know what I think, but the short version is, you look sexy as hell," I say dreamily as my eyes travel up her legs.

"Mmmmm," she half giggles, half murmurs as Lindsey mutters something under her breath.

"Sorry John, you were saying?"

"How's Catherine and the little one doing?"

"They're fine, Lindsey can't wait to get home to ride her new bike, and Catherine is grinning like an idiot. Mind you, she's been grinning like an idiot since I told her I loved her last week."

He suddenly squeals loudly down the phone. "You told her you love her? Finally?! Put her on."

I hand her the phone, and she gladly takes it, not needing any encouragement to speak to him. Lindsey and I take advantage of the wooden bench inside the cubicle, and take a seat, because we both know that once Cath is on the phone, we're doomed to spend a while here as spectators.

"Hey babe, how's it going?" Catherine then takes a seat on my lap and wriggles back and forth as she gestures with her hands. "Oh my god! You're kiddin' me?!"

Okay now would be a good time to let me in on the conversation, put it on speakerphone maybe, instead of letting me sit here like a clueless moron, left out in the conversational cold wondering what's going on. But no, she's clearly enjoying herself now, and is having an animated discussion whilst bouncing around on my lap like I'm paying for it. I should have known really, once a woman is on the phone and gossiping, you can't get her off the damn thing.

Now, I know I've had a rant on this subject before but my god, I wouldn't be surprised if in future, evolution decided that every female should be born complete with cell phone attached to their hand. There could be snowdrifts on the floor, a thousand mile an hour wind blowing through here like its Siberia and she wouldn't notice. I could stumble around the store naked, ass painted day-glo pink while being chased around by a bondage freak in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume, and still she'd still be gossiping away.

You ever notice how there's one set of rules for you and another for your beloved? She wants to talk to anyone, either on the phone or in person for hours, and that seems perfectly fine. But when it's you that gets a call or bumps into an old friend at the mall, and wish to talk for a while, will she let ya? Not a chance, your woman has other ideas. Suddenly, you gotta be elsewhere. You need to get your butt home to fix something or other, or maybe her Mom has just crammed an entire buffalo into a pie, and she's desperate to get over there and try it.

You watch, she'll start rolling her eyes and hopping from foot to foot, glancing at her watch every ten seconds and counting every word that leaves your lips. And heaven forbid if you actually talk for thirty seconds over the allotted time, because as soon as you hang up or get outside, it will be thrown back at you, as will every transgression you've ever been guilty of for the last twenty years, whether she knew you back then or not.

On the other hand, as we've already discovered, your little angel is a law unto herself. When she sees somebody at the store for instance, you realise you better damn well get used to living off of whatever is in your aisle because you're not getting out of there any time soon, not until she's had some gossip and imparted some of her own. It could be little Jimmy's hernia operation, or Susie's new ballet classes. It could even be how mommy dearest wigged out at a bake sale last week, and had to be contained by three butch guys in white coats. But you can bet your ass you're gonna be forced to stand there, while she crams an entire six months worth of news into a conversation.

Thankfully, Catherine and I are nowhere near that stage yet, and somehow I have my doubts that we ever will be. Not only is she not that bad, well not entirely, but you'll never catch me going to Lily's for dinner if she's put a buffalo in a pie. On the other hand, Catherine might not put up with me for that long; we've both agreed I'm completely nuts, even though she finds my insanity cute. I personally don't think she's entirely sane herself though.

Take the night before last for instance, shift was slow and we were contemplating life's mysteries. Things like, if a tree falls in a forest, and there's nobody there then does it make a sound? She says yes, and I say you're not there, how would you know? And she thinks I'm the one who's nuts?

How about this one…if you unscrew your bellybutton, would your ass fall off? Now, she says you can't unscrew your bellybutton, but again, how would she know? Does that imply she's tried it or what? Could it really be done medically I wonder? Another one of life's mysteries: how come you can never get a shopping trolley without a dodgy and/or squeaky wheel? Is there somewhere that makes these faulty wheels? Or do they just appear?

Can you imagine if humans were like that? We'd all be walking around with squeaky legs, which pointed in every other direction instead of where you were actually headed. Now that would actually be a lot of fun, I can just imagine people bumping into each other, and having to apologise for their wayward limbs. I suspect a lot of marriages would start out this way.

Oh now there's another thing, when you're involved in a marriage, or even a long term relationship…yes, your own, not somebody else's… why is it they question you the very next morning, about what time you got home after being out with your buddies the previous night?

She starts off by pretending to be interested in your evening, and then asks what time you got home, and being the coward that you are, tell her it was probably just after midnight, when it was like closer to two or something. You get the tight smile and the nod, before she tells you exactly what time you got home right down to the nanosecond. If she knew, why did she ask?! She knew you were gonna lie about it, because she terrifies you when she gives you 'the look'. So technically that's her fault, but you still get the blame.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'll never understand women. I might just give up trying to figure out the female psyche after all, but it affords me the opportunity to rant on a regular basis, and I must like it because that's all I seem to have done all day. Hands up, all of those people that think I should be institutionalized? Okay that's practically all of you, just wait until I'm free, you'll regret it. I'll come by your place and cram a buffalo in a pie, see how you like that.

"Sara?"

"Huh?"

Catherine snorts with laughter, and continues speaking into the phone. "I'll hand you over now, honey…Yeah she zoned put, probably indulging in a mental rant…Okay you too, John, speak to you soon. Love to Marty."

Damn, the woman knows me far too well.

"Thank you," I say at last, taking the phone from her. "Okay, I've got the feeling I'm missing something, spill Hoskins."

"Sorry babe, don't have time to tell ya, get Cath to fill you in. You know I love you, right sweetheart?"

"I know, I love you too John. I'll catch you later, hon," I end the call, and my bottom lip flicks out. "Typical! He can talk to you for hours but…"

"He's going out on a date," she tells me, smiling at the look on my face. "Marty kissed him last night."

"Kissed him? What for?" I ask stupidly.

"Don't be dense, Sidle. Why do you kiss me?"

"Good question, it's not because you're stealing all of my friends," I chuckle to let her know I'm kidding, when she rolls her eyes at me. "You're not seriously telling me that Marty kissed him, like really kissed him, are you?"

"Yes, Marty really likes him apparently. They were talking about us, and how sweet it was that after all this time, we finally got together. Marty said he understood why I'd always bitched at you, it was the same reason he'd bitched at John all these years. John also suddenly realised it went deeper than enjoying winding him up, and he let the dude plant one on him."

"Let the dude plant one on him?" I raise an eyebrow at her terminology.

"John's words, not mine," she grins, and leans over to give me a soft kiss. "I think it's sweet."

"Yeah, it is sweet. Feels weird though. Just kinda sitting in the twilight zone for a minute, here," I smile, before I lean in and kiss her again.

"Mom, Sara," Lindsey says, sounding bored, "How come you guys are always attached at the face?"

We both snicker at this, before Catherine answers. "When you get older baby, you'll understand. It's a part of being in love."

"God, never," she shudders. "I'd much rather jam my head in a door than kiss anybody."

"Sara and I will remind you of that on your first date, and then again on your wedding day," Catherine grins, as I sit there and zone out again. Oh god she's serious, she really does want to spend the rest of her life with me.

Sara Sidle, you're one lucky nut job.

***

I breathe a sigh of relief as the door is closed on our last young guest. I don't know about it being a party, it looked more like a battle scene from Platoon than anything else. Don't get me wrong, I love kids but an entire houseful of them screeching in tight formation, is more than any normal person can handle for more than half an hour at a time. Having said that, Greg managed pretty well, so he's either going to make a great father someday, or they're all on the same intellectual level. Actually, scratch that, at one point this afternoon Catherine had to prise an ice cube off of the end of his tongue so I think the kids could be intellectually superior. He did look to be having the time of his life however, happily joining in all the fun and games. But at one point, I do suspect he wasn't entirely content though, when one of the kids announced he was a karate student and enthusiastically gave his friends a demonstration by repeatedly jamming his hand into Greg's windpipe.

I walk awkwardly into the kitchen; a certain part of my anatomy is a little sensitive, thanks to the CIA trained assassin cleverly disguised as one of Lindsey's friends. I grab my beer from the kitchen counter, and tip it back, draining the bottle and swallowing heavily. I'm too traumatised for words, but I guess that happens when numerous kids are either on a rampant sugar high, or stuff too much food down their cakeholes and make themselves sick. It was a new one on me, I had never had to hold onto an eight year old before as they balanced precariously over the toilet, and expelled an entire week's worth of food in a scene worthy of the Exorcist.

Greg catches my eye and smiles sympathetically. "Kid with the football helmet got you in the crotch too, huh?"

"Oh yes, came running at me full force, I put a halt to his gallop at my considerable expense," I nod and grimace slightly, that's my night of hot sex put on hold. "Thankfully, he just went home."

Greg stands nodding, as he grimaces along with me. "Thank god for that, he'd bumped me in the nads a time or two, already. Between him and that kid who thinks he's Steven Segal, it's a wonder I'm still alive."

"I wouldn't worry about it Greg, they're just doing their bit for mankind, in attempting to stop you re-producing," Grissom chuckles and steps into the room, as Greg glares grumpily at him.

Catherine glides into the kitchen behind Grissom, looking absolutely stunning in her new dress and heels. Good god the woman is absolute sex on legs, and boy what a great pair they are. They seem to go on forever, and it sends a shiver down my spine when I remember exactly what she can do with those legs. She notices me gingerly leaning against the counter, and exaggerates the sway of her hips slightly, knowing that I'm watching. Her beautiful blue eyes darken, and she looks pointedly at me, with one of her cute little half smiles, knowing I know exactly what she's thinking about.

"Did Brad catch you out too?" she grins, and wraps an arm around my shoulder.

"Brad? Oh you mean Mini-Satan in the helmet. He did, and I hope it wears off before bedtime," I dip my head a little, and kiss her bare shoulder. "Or the only thing caressing my nether regions tonight will be an ice pack."

"I'll kiss your soreness all better. Slowly and softly, brushing my lips against your skin, tasting and teasing you," she whispers, her words and the warmth of her breath against my ear making me shiver, not to mention setting my face and my pants on fire. "All night long, baby, just you and me."

I look around the room to find Greg and Grissom grinning at me, knowing that whatever she's saying in my ear is causing me to blush violently.

"You did that on purpose, and if I didn't need ice before, I do now. Just you wait, Cath," I squeak, as she pulls back and I see the amusement in her eyes. She leans back in to kiss me again, and I comply until I hear somebody clearing their throat.

Shit, Sam Braun just caught me kissing his daughter. Being the hero that I am, I decide I should stay right where I am, you know, hiding behind Catherine.

"Mugs, Miss Sara," he smiles at us, his eyes twinkling like Catherine's do. "Sorry I'm late, I had a bit of business to attend to. I've already given Lindsey her gift, it's a big Barbie house thing; she's over the moon with it."

"Thanks, Sam, that's very sweet of you," she smiles guardedly at him. "If you haven't seen Mom already, I suggest you grab her before she passes out, she's wasted."

He throws his head back and laughs heartily, before leaning in conspiratorially. "Great, maybe if I can grab her in time, I'll get a little lovin' tonight."

"Too much information," she goes a little green around the gills as she laughs, and despite myself, I'm starting to like him.

"Would you like a drink, Mr Braun?"

"Call me Sam, and I'll take a scotch if you have any, please."

"Certainly," I pour his drink while he chats with Catherine, and then hand it to him, just as Lindsey grabs hold of my hand. "Hey honeybunch, you feeling tired?"

"Really tired," she nods, and puts her head on my shoulder as I lift her into my arms.

"Aunty Cath?" Jeremy looks equally as tired, and rests his head against Catherine's stomach as she strokes his hair.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can I crash here tonight, please? I'm too tired to go home," he yawns, and puts his arms around her waist.

"Sure you can. Did you ask your mom, already?" she asks, as she wraps her arms around him.

"I tried, but she must be drunk, she's telling my dad what a stud he is," he replies, as Catherine and I exchange amused at each glances.

"That would be my fault," I grin wickedly.

"What did you do?" she raises an eyebrow, and looks at me with a puzzled smile.

"Can I plead the fifth?" I ask, trying and failing not to look shifty about it.

"I feel it only fair to warn you that if you do that, I shall be moved to enforce the 'No Nookie Clause'," she giggles at the horrified look on my face.

The thought does indeed horrify me, so in typical fashion, I immediately give in and spill. "I might just have, sort of, doctored her drinks."

"You didn't?" her jaw drops open as she laughs. "Wait…not my mother as well?"

I open a cupboard and wave a bottle at them, which once claimed to be vodka, but it certainly isn't now. "Oh yeah, they did nothing but team up and tease me all afternoon, so a little payback was in the offing for them both. But whatever you do don't touch this stuff, it's lethal."

"She'll kill you, they both will," Catherine announces cheerfully.

"Or at least make her life a misery," I hear Nancy say from behind me, as she grips onto my waist with her hands and squeezes playfully.

"You're already married, honey, so that kind of misery is out," I quip, with a grin.

"Like that would stop me," she laughs evilly, and rests her chin on my shoulder. "I might decide Catherine can't keep you, and run away with you."

"She's just trying to get me back for stealing her boyfriend when she was in eighth grade," Catherine laughs, as Nancy flashes an evil expression in her direction. "But Graham Tucker was the school science nerd, and I did her a favour. Although he could kiss pretty well, as I recall."

"Jesus, Cath," I roll my eyes, as I laugh, "I'm seein' a pattern here."

"Hell no. I never remember thinking 'damn, look at the biology on that' when I looked at him, but when I look at you, that's exactly what I'm thinking," Catherine says with a husky laugh.

"Catherine, my love, you've just earned yourself an A plus grade. See me after class," I reply with a huge cheeky grin.

"Ooh, yes Miss Sidle," she says, rubbing her hands together with a sultry look.

"Damn, cast aside again. What does Catherine have that I don't?" Nancy hiccups, and let's go of me, as she pretends to get grumpy about it.

"She doesn't have a husband, who's standing right behind her and planning on taking offence," Jeff jokes as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, and hugs her close.

Not right this minute no; but we've been there and done that.

"I feel so sorry for you J, can't take Nancy anywhere, and I have to admit to being relieved she's not my problem anymore," Catherine laughs, and I notice that Sam is watching our interactions intently.

You can tell just by looking at him how much he adores her, but I have my doubts as to whether she'll ever let him be more of a father to her. She's allowed him a little closer to Lindsey, but still keeps a watchful eye on him, and I guess in many aspects I can't blame her, because he's known her entire life he's her father and chose not to tell her for most of those years. Then again, neither did Lily and I suspect that most of the tension between mother and daughter is for that reason.

"I sense there's a story in there somewhere," I laugh, as Lindsey nudges me. "What's the matter, sweetie?"

"Wanna go to bed," she mumbles into my neck.

"Say goodnight to everyone first, baby," Catherine rubs her back.

"Night night, Sam," she says with a tired smile, and allows him to kiss her on the cheek.

"Sweet dreams, angel," he smiles, and waves at her.

"I'm staying here tonight, is that okay?" Jeremy looks up at his parents.

"Sure it is, if it's okay with your Aunty Cath and Aunty Sara. I'll pick you up in the morning, night kiddo," Jeff leans down and hugs his son goodnight, before kissing his niece. "Night night Linds, see you tomorrow, blossom."

"Night Dad, night mom," Jeremy says. "Night Mr Braun."

"Night Uncle Jeff, night Aunty Nancy," Lindsey's turn this time.

"Night, son bun," Nancy leans down and hugs Jeremy, and then kisses Lindsey goodnight. "Night, Linds."

"It's like the Waltons. Goodnight Elizabeth, Goodnight John Boy," Catherine laughs. "Back in a minute, Sam. If you want to see Mom, she's in the living room talking to Warrick."

She gives him a tight smile, and I can tell she's struggling with her feelings again. She wants to hold him at arms length, and yet I think at the same time, she wants him to be a father to her.

"Come on kiddies, up the wooden hill to bed," I maneouvre past our guests with Lindsey in my arms, as Catherine and Jeremy follow behind me, hand in hand.

Ten minutes later they're both changed, and they snuggle down, as we tuck them in and kiss them goodnight. I can't believe that just a few short weeks ago, I was completely on my own, and now look at me. I have Catherine and I'm part of a real family, and I'm heading straight for a padded cell if I don't quit this grinning. Catherine catches my eye, and gives me a soft soppy look, and we close the door quietly behind us so as not to disturb the kids. Catherine, who is just a wee bit tipsy, slides her arms around my neck, and indulges in a spot of tonsil hockey the likes of which normally leads to our underwear dangling from the light fittings.

"Wanna come dance with me?" she asks in a whisper.

"You still have guests."

"This is my house, correction, our house, and if I want to dance with you, then I'll dance with you. Problem?" she asks with a smile.

"Not in the slightest," I grin brightly, feeling relieved because I've sort of felt a bit out of it all night because people kept staring at me. "I like the way you said our house, because this is the only real home I've ever had."

"It always will be, sweetheart, I can guarantee you that," she reaches up to kiss me. "Now, are you going to dance with me or not?"

"Not," I shake my head as she pouts. "I have a surprise for you, remember?"

"Oooh so you do, lead on," she says, as I pull her into the bedroom, and shut the door behind us.

We settle on the bed and I reach under my pillow to pull a box out. She beams as I hand it to her, and enthusiastically opens the box. Not even ten seconds after she's lifted the lid, she bursts into tears.

"It is okay isn't it?" I ask worriedly.

She nods, and makes a funny sort of strangled squealing noise which is meant to pass as a yes. I remember some months back, the watch that Nancy had bought for Catherine as her first mother's day gift from Lindsey, had gotten damaged accidentally at a crime scene. She was heartbroken when it couldn't be repaired and hated the fact that it had to sit in her jewellery box at home. So for the last couple of weeks, I searched around until I could find somebody who was willing to take the time to restore it to its original condition.

"I asked Nancy first if it was okay, and she didn't mind, she was over the moon about me trying to get it fixed."

"They told me it couldn't be," she wipes her eyes and brushes her thumb lovingly across the watch.

"Its specialist work, not everyone does it and it took me a while but I found somebody who was happy to do it."

"Thank you," she says a in a croaky voice as more tears spill.

"You're very welcome, sweetheart," I smile at her, and take the watch from its box, before putting it on for her.

She then takes hold of me and hugs me like her life depends on it, and I feel my entire body tingle with happiness. I can't describe the sensation I get when I make Catherine or Lindsey happy. It causes a feeling in me that no gift I've ever received, or no act of kindness that's come my way ever has before, but it's a feeling I won't ever get tired of.

"Sara?"

"Hmm?"

She pulls back and crosses the room, before grabbing something out of a drawer and sitting back down beside me. She nervously licks her lips and hesitates before looking up at me, as if she's about to say something she's anxious about.

"I know that you and I have only been together a month, and I'll completely understand if you think this is too fast but…" she places something cold in my hand and when I look down, there are two keys sitting in my palm, "these are the spare set of keys to the house and I want you to have them. Like I told you, this is your home, as much as it is mine and Lindsey's and whether you choose to stay, or go back to your apartment, or whatever, I never want you to feel as if you need permission to be here with us."

My chest tightens, and I realise that aside from being given the greatest honour when they allowed me into their lives, I'm finally being given the gift of a proper home, and that means just as much to me.

"What about Lindsey?"

"I already spoke with her, she loves the idea. I had to bribe her to keep her quiet about it, so that I could ask you," she says with a smile.

"Cath…" I pause, trying to find the right words to tell her how happy I am that she's asked me.

"It's okay, I understand it's too quick," she smiles at me, not looking the slightest bit hurt or offended, but getting the wrong end of the stick in the process.

I could get used to all this, and now I'm free to do so, because she's basically told me I can live here if I want to. Do I want to? Oh yes. Am I nuts enough to move it along this quickly? Definitely. I wouldn't even attempt this if I wasn't so secure in her feelings for me. But I know how much she loves me, and I know how much I love her and Lindsey, so it feels completely natural. But even if it all went wrong at some point, then at least we'd know we gave of ourselves completely.

"This is going to traumatise you no end, Cath, but you'll need to clear out some space for me in your closet."

"You mean it? You're moving in?" she says breathlessly, with a grin.

"Might as well, we've only spent a few nights apart in the last month, and I really could use somebody to iron my shirts," I chuckle as she gently thumps me on the leg and pretends to look sternly at me. "Seriously though, I don't think either of us wants to go back to living alone. I know I couldn't, not now, I need to be around you."

"I couldn't go back to living alone either, I've gotten used to you being here, but you're sure it's not too fast?"

"Yes it's too fast, its way too fast and it's completely insane and so are we," and it's true, we should be wearing hers and hers matching straight-jackets.

She nods, and adds, "In the space of four weeks, we've gone from apparently hating each other to moving in together, but I guess the three years of knowing each other beforehand cancels out a little of the insanity."

"Good point. Makes it seem a little less loony."

"Have you ever done anything this nuts, before?"

"Nope. Taking my current mental state into consideration, I can honestly say I've done a few mad things in my time, but this is the daddy of them all."

"Considering I was a stripper, I think this is the most insane thing I've ever decided to do, and that's saying something," she laughs, bumping me with her shoulder as she does.

"I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than to be with you and Lindsey, though," I tell her with a smile that threatens to take over my entire face.

She returns the smile, and I suddenly feel myself flat on my back. I notice she's sitting astride me, her dress hitched up over her shapely thighs as she grins at me so seductively that it's a wonder my fudgies are still in place.

"Now now babe, don't you dare bite me, we've got guests," I say with a giggle when I notice the predatory look in her eye.

"You're lucky we've got guests," she grinds against me slowly. "Or I'd be tempted to take advantage of you, Sara. This is officially your first night in your new home, and I think we need to officially christen the bed, every other surface in the room, and just about every other room in the house."

The slow continuous grind of her pelvis against mine creates a wonderful feeling, as opposed to a painful one. Oh thank you god, my girly tackle doesn't hurt anymore, and now I don't have to go hunt down and torture the kid in the football helmet.

"Lucky?" I squeak. "Damn unlucky from where I'm lying, but I will let you take full advantage of me later, if that's any consolation."

"Oh I intend to, baby," she leans forward, grinding against me again as she does, sending my heartbeat into overdrive. "More than once."

***

An hour later, the guys announce that they really should be getting to work, as Catherine and I prepare to see them out. They all look as if they'd rather stay, and it makes me realise just what a miserable asshole Ecklie really is, when he could so easily have let them have the night off. We do enough favours for the dayshift, after all. He even took some convincing over letting Catherine have the weekend off, even though like I said, I quite happily let her take some of my vacation time. He's not our biggest fan anyway, he keeps complaining to Grissom about us being paired together now that we're a couple and keeps questioning our ability to do our job. Grissom keeps waving our solve rate in his face, and it keeps him quiet until the next time.

"Thanks for inviting us ladies, it's been wonderful," Warrick leans down to hug us both.

"Great food too. I gotta tell you Cath, your mom can cook up a storm," Greg pats the little plastic baggie he's carrying, which is stuffed to the gills with food.

"Even better when it keeps your mouth out of action," Grissom chuckles, at Greg's outraged look.

"I didn't see you skimping at the buffet, Giselle. You know you keep moaning about the size of your keel, but it didn't stop you having third helpings of Tiramisu," Greg banters.

"I have a pretty fast metabolism," Grissom goes pink. "And why does everyone insist on calling me Giselle?"

"It suits you so much better than Gilbert, that's why," Nick remarks with a grin, from where he's standing next to Warrick on the porch.

"Uh huh, _so_ much sexier. Giselle sounds like some gorgeous chick who knows a thing or two, and isn't afraid to use it on you," Warrick chips in with a laugh.

"Sounds like it, but doesn't look like it, Greg pipes up again. "The Giselle we know is 170 pounds of hairy entomologist who…"

"I am not hairy! And I know a thing or two Greg, just don't force me to use it on you," he raises an eyebrow evilly, which causes Greg to hide behind Nick and Warrick, clutching the doggie bag as if it will save his life.

"Don't tell me you're still shaving?" Nick asks, and then giggles when Grissom goes an even deeper shade of pink.

"Had to, when I let it grow back, the stubble irritated my skin," he finds something interesting to look at in the driveway, as if he hasn't just admitted to shaving various bits of his anatomy still.

"So, how's Terri doing?" Catherine takes pity on him, and changes the subject, as she places her arms around my waist and leans into me.

"She's doing well, she's looking forward to joining the team," he beams proudly, a light behind his eyes that I've never seen before, transforming his face.

"Cath and I will have to grab her for a girls only evening, warn her exactly what she's getting in to." I giggle as he gives me a horrified look.

"Don't panic Gil, I'm sure Sara won't tell her that you wear nothing but silk panties, and Garfield slippers while you watch the Discovery Channel," Catherine says, with a straight face, as the guys howl with laughter.

"They were plain cotton boxers, and the Garfield slippers went six months ago. I have moccasins now," he says, looking a deeper shade of red as the guys howl even louder.

"How did you know this?" I ask her incredulously with a laugh, "Spill, I need to know these things."

"Not to scar you for life or anything sweetheart, but it was last year when I thought he was still on vacation, and went over there to water his plants like he asked me to. I just about died when I saw him sitting on the sofa, stuffing his face with cookie dough, and displaying pasty white legs that looked like knots in cotton," she explains, as the guys nearly wet their pants with laughing so hard.

"Screw you guys, I'm going to work," Grissom grumps, with a raised eyebrow, as we laugh even harder.

"See ya later, Giselle!" Greg waves at him, relatively certain he's safe.

"Come on, Gregory. You're working with me tonight," Grissom grabs Greg, as he protests loudly all the way down the driveway.

"See you later, boys, and thanks for coming, Lindsey was over the moon with her gifts," Catherine says, as Nick and Warrick make their way to the car.

"Any time, honey, you know that," Nick grins at us. "See you both tomorrow!"

"Bye girls," Warrick waves, while we stand watching until their vehicle is out of sight.

"Right Sidle, come dance with me," she quickly grabs hold of my hand, and drags me back into the house.

I watch as Catherine fiddles with the stereo, she must be in serious pre-seduction mode because she's put her Lionel Richie CD on. My body isn't safe tonight, and I make a mental note to thank whoever is responsible for the fact. Which makes me wonder, do they have a shag fairy? Just who is really responsible for making sure we get some, and why do some get more than others? I better quit thinking about that one, I sense a zoning out moment coming on. Catherine confidently pulls me into a hug, her hips swaying slowly against mine. Oh that feels good, I defy anyone to dance with Catherine Willows and not be deeply affected by it. The woman is so limber it isn't even funny.

"Mind if we join in?" Nancy grins at us both, still three sheets to the wind. 'Out of curiosity Sara, what have I been drinking this evening?"

"Vodka," I reply.

"And?"

"That's it, Vodka," I watch as she raises an eyebrow at me. "Okay, Vodka and Sherry." Another raised eyebrow. "Okay, there was Vermouth in there." Second eyebrow follows the first. "Okay there was Gin and peach Schnapps in there too, but that was absolutely it."

"Jesus, is that even safe?" Catherine giggles.

"She's still breathing isn't she?" I grin, knowing it must be, because Marty hasn't managed to kill anyone…yet.

"Barely!" Nancy looks horrified. "Oh if I wake up dead, I'm going to kill you, Sara Sidle."

"If you wake up dead, I'm gonna phone the Guinness Book of Records," Catherine giggles. "Do you want us to drop Jeremy off home tomorrow?

"Superman here can pick him up," she pats her husband on the chest with a smile. "I'll be too ill to move, seeing as how your girlfriend, has just tried to murder me."

"Don't go blaming me Nance; I didn't tip the bottle to your lips. You were sucking it down like a vacuum," I giggle as she shoots me an evil look, and flips me the finger with a grin.

"I'll get you back, honey. Be afraid, be very afraid."

Catherine grins wickedly. "Ooh I wanna keep score."

"Hey Sara, you seen the new Chevy Corvette?" Jeff asks me with a dreamy look on his face. "Man, I wouldn't mind test driving that."

"That's what he said about me on our first date," Nancy says dryly, as she and Catherine burst out laughing.

"Great thing about the Chevy though, Jeff, is that unlike these two, if it gives you any trouble you can take it back," I reply as they both glare at me, and Jeff chokes on his laughter.

"Just for that, I think you should kiss me by way of an apology," Catherine husks.

"People are watching," I blush at the thought, because when I kissed her earlier on, there weren't that many people around.

"I don't care, it's either that or we cancel play time," she runs her finger across my lips, and she knows I'll give in because I'm so whipped. "Wait a minute, though."

I watch as she takes her heels off, and tosses them into a corner. When she comes back, she wraps her arms around me, and now she's back at her normal height instead of on a level with me.

"That's better," she smiles up at me. "We fit together so much better like this."

That sends my insides gooey and I reach down to kiss her. As my lips brush hers, I sense at least one pair of eyes boring into the back of my head, and I figure it will take a while for people to get used to it. At least I know Lily is on our side now, and beyond that, I don't care who disapproves because anybody that matters is already supporting us.

"There, wasn't so bad was it?" she beams proudly.

"Have I told you lately, just how much I love you, Catherine Willows?" I say with a soppy grin.

"Hmm not for the last ten minutes, so you better remind me."

"I love you very much, so much in fact, that when you drive me crazy these days, the urge to bury your body out in the desert is the furthest thing from my mind," I wink cheekily at her.

"You say the nicest things," she pretends to swoon. "And believe me when I say, I love you too sweetheart, very much indeed."

"Shit," Nancy mutters, suddenly sounding sober. "Cath, babe, you got a visitor.

Catherine and I simultaneously turn to see who the visitor is, and right around the same time, we mutter the same expletive. Standing glaring at us, is a disheveled looking Eddie, who looks as if he's had one too many over the eight. Well that would explain the eyes boring into the back of my head. Doesn't he ever knock?

"I wanna see Lindsey," he slurs. "Where is she?"

"She's in bed already, so keep your voice down," Catherine remains calm, but I can tell she'd happily ream him a new one.

"So that's how it's gonna be? You're gonna deny me the chance to give my own daughter a present on her eighth birthday, huh?"

He's waving a box in the air, and I can only assume its Lindsey's gift, although it looks as if he's driven over it once or twice. It's then that I notice a very meek looking Charlotte standing next to him awkwardly. The room is silent except for the music playing in the background, as everyone else looks at him, and I do believe he's created a scene. Not the kind of scene I wanted though, I would have preferred the kind where he's flat on his back while I'm waving a camera at him and passing swabs over his body.

"She's nine, Ed," Catherine's voice drips with barely concealed fury. "And if you'd been bothered to drag your ass out of bed earlier on today, then you'd have been able to stop by and see her."

"I told you, I'm ill."

"Ill my ass, you had a hangover, and now you're drunk again," she folds her arms and looks at him, as if daring him to refute it.

He doesn't, and grins again. "Ah Cath, honey, you know what its like."

"I'm not your honey, and yeah, I know exactly what you're like, which is why I don't want you to see Lindsey again until you quit jerking around," she snaps, and I can tell she's desperately trying to hold her anger in check. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you left 'cause I've got guests, and you're no longer welcome."

"Hey!" he angrily takes a step toward her, but before he has a chance to do anything, I grab hold of his shirt.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," I say quietly with as much menace as I can muster, "because I'm looking for a reason to break you nose asshole, and if you so much as breathe in Catherine's direction again, I'll break quite a few other bones as well."

"Oh here we go," he raises his hand sarcastically. "Super dyke to the rescue again."

"You okay there, Sara?" Jeff asks, stepping closer to me.

"I'm fine thanks, Jeff," I say, and see him nod out of the corner of my eye, but he stays standing where he is, just in case I need him.

I see Charlotte's eyes nervously flicker to one side, and my eyes follow hers to see Sam glaring in their direction, before she takes hold of Eddie's arm, and tries to pull him away.

"Come on Eddie, you delivered Lindsey's present, so it's time to go home. Catherine, I'm so sorry about this," she apologises softly.

"It's not your fault, don't worry about it." Catherine replies, sounding sincere. "I think you should drive him home, he's had too much to drink."

"Take your fucking hands off me!" he snarls, and I can't figure out which one of us he's talking to.

"You heard the lady, time to leave, Eddie," I hear Jeff speak from behind me, and I know he's come even closer just to make it plain to Eddie he won't hesitate to help me show him out.

"Exit is this way," I flash a sickly sweet smile at him.

"Fuck you," he throws the box at me, and I deftly catch it, before putting it on the floor and grabbing him by the arm in one swift movement, as I drag him toward the door.

He stumbles as I push him through it, and Charlotte takes hold of his arm again to stop him from falling, before stumbling herself as he pushes her off, backhanding her across the mouth in the process. I see red and grab him by the shirt once again, before none too gently pushing him up against the car door.

"Are you okay?" I glance across at her in the gloom, and notice her lip is bleeding.

"I'll be fine," she nods, and dabs at her lip with her finger. "Thank you."

"Touch her again, and I'll have the cops on you so fast your feet won't touch," I growl at him. "Same goes for Catherine. I ever see you attempt to go at her again like you just did, and I'll rip your nuts clean off."

"You know, I'm gettin' tired of watching you worm your way into my daughter's life. In fact, I'm gettin' just plain tired of you. You've got three days to get the hell out of the way, and if you don't, you'll regret it."

"I don't respond to threats," I tell him firmly, I'm not frightened of him, but I am wary of what he may do, even though I'm not about to show him that.

"Oh well, I guess you'll find out the hard way."

"Guess I will."

He looks annoyed now, the smirk leaving his face as he grits his teeth because I'm not playing by his rules. "You either end things with Cath, or I'll file for custody."

I roll my eyes, and let go of him in disgust. "How many times have we heard that?"

"Well try me, and find out whether I'm serious," he snarls. "Oh and another thing, if you tell Catherine what I've just said or why you're breaking up with her, I'll go ahead and just take Lindsey anyway. You won't know when, and you won't know where, but she'll never see her mother again, I can guarantee you that."

"You sick, twisted, son of a bitch," it's my turn to snarl. "You can go to hell; I'm not going to play your little games."

And it's true, I won't. There is no way on god's green earth that I'm going to leave Catherine and Lindsey. He can scream, shout, and cry as loudly as he likes but there is no way I'm giving up what I have now, not for anybody, I love them both too much to lose them.

"On your own head be it, let's see how Catherine feels about you when she realises you're responsible for her losing her daughter," the smirk is back, as is the chill in the pit of my stomach.

"You know, if you even loved your daughter half as much as you profess to, or had an ounce of feeling left for Catherine, then you'd quit screwing around and grow up."

"But as we've already established, I'm the one in control and can do what I like," he shrugs his shoulders with a laugh. "Three days…"

"Yeah? Fuck you," I watch as he continues to laugh at me, and climbs into the car, as I turn towards Charlotte. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"Nothing I can't handle, thanks," she says, her expression stoic as she slips behind the wheel of the car and starts the engine.

I shove my hands into my pockets, and head back toward the party, as I notice Jeff is watching me from the window to make sure I'm okay. I wave and smile at him, trying to appear cheerful, but my heart isn't in it. I've got three days to come up with a plan to get Eddie off our backs, and I know that whatever I do, I absolutely cannot tell Catherine.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 21**

I find myself slipping back into consciousness, and could swear that I hear somebody talking. Oh dear god no, I knew I'd reached new levels of mental imbalance but the voices are just too much. How does that work I wonder? If you hear the voices and know you're insane, does that somehow cancel it out? Good god Sidle, shut your mental yap woman, it's far too early in the morning to embark on a rant, mental or otherwise. See this is what happens, you start thinking about stuff, which only leads to zoning out and then you wonder why you're hearing voices. Well, I'll tell you why you're hearing voices, it's because you talk to yourself you big weirdo.

Oh god, now I'm arguing with myself, too. I'm also getting the feeling I'm being watched. Oh shit, now I can add paranoia to my list of weird behaviour. Scratch that, I've always been paranoid. A doctor of mine said as much once, well, he didn't really say it but I knew he was thinking it. I couldn't help it, I have a phobia of doctors and he was waving various bits of equipment at me, and I kinda told him to back off or I'd break his legs. In any case, if I am being watched, then whoever it is ain't going to see much because I'm buried beneath Catherine, who at this point is looking at nothing else but the inside of her eyelids. I'm certain about that, because she's doing a great impression of a pneumatic drill, as she snores into my neck.

I crack an eye open slightly and survey the room, and it immediately becomes apparent that I am indeed being watched. Two sets of eyes peer over Catherine's shoulder, from her side of the bed, and I can practically hear, as well as see them grinning. I've heard people say they could almost hear somebody grin before, but never understood it till now. Catherine tightens her hold on me, and then wraps her legs around mine. I swear the woman turns into a monkey at bedtime, and is permanently glued to my side. God, I love my life.

"Hey Linds, hey Animal," I greet them both, as Jeremy blushes bright red at the use of his nickname.

"I hate that," his ears go a shade darker as I chuckle. "I bet Mom told you."

I nod, because it was indeed Nancy who told me that they'd all nicknamed him Animal, from the Muppet Babies, because he often used to growl like him when he started learning to crawl around the house.

"I think it's cute," I grin at him as he rolls his eyes.

"Bucket head, cute? Not in a million years," Lindsey pretends to stick her fingers down her throat.

"Well if I'm Animal, then Aunty Cath has got to be Miss Piggy," Jeremy snickers. "She snores like a freight train."

"I heard that, squirt," Catherine says all of a sudden, in a croaky voice.

"Way to go, nimrod," Lindsey nudges him. "We're in trouble now."

"That would depend on what time it is," Catherine snuggles further into me. "And you will be in trouble if I hear you using the word nimrod again, before you're eighteen."

Jeremy wears a smug grin, as Lindsey glares at him. "Sorry Mom."

I squint at my watch, "It's just after ten, sweetheart."

"In that case, I'll let you both off for the moment, but you're in big trouble when I wake up properly. Anyway, when are you guys gonna stop crawling into bed with us? You're 35," she says, as they laugh.

"I can see how you'd think that. That's because troll face, here," Jeremy jabs a thumb in his cousin's direction, "looks as if she's had a hard life."

Catherine buries her head in my chest, and shakes with silent laughter. I think he's been listening to Jeff again.

"Listen buttwipe, you better hadn't start burning my briskets, or I could just as easily kick you out of my room, and then you won't have anywhere to sleep next time you come over," Lindsey says, sounding so much like her mother.

"That's just fine, you go ahead and get hysterical, but when you're looking for company, don't ask me. I'll be too busy ignoring you to care," he replies smoothly as Catherine and I listen and try not to laugh about it.

"What is it with men? You so much as look in their direction, and all of a sudden they think you adore them. Don't bother bringing your butt over here again, I'll be the one busy ignoring you," she replies, and now she sounds like me.

"You ever get the feeling they're either growing up too quickly, or that they listen to us too much?" I say with a laugh.

"Oh yeah," she answers vaguely, never at her best in the mornings, because like me, she hates them.

In fact, some mornings it's like waking up next to Godzilla with its knickers in a twist. But I'm hardly the poster child for chirpiness first thing, and its nice waking up with somebody who feels every bit as resentful toward the world as I do that early in the day. This could be a match made in heaven.

"I learnt from the best," Lindsey beams, and points to her mother, trying to earn brownie points in the process.

"Aunty Cath, Linds is trying to say you get hysterical," Jeremy laughs loudly, as Lindsey shoots him a death glare.

"Can't argue with the kid, he's right," I say with amusement.

"Hey," Catherine complains, and reaches around behind me and digs her nails into my butt. "I do not get hysterical. I go postal, there's a difference."

"Stop that, I warned you once before not to dig your nails into my ass."

"What are you gonna do about it?" she cracks an eye open, and looks at me.

"Um…kiss you stupid, so I can keep my kneecaps?" I grin stupidly.

"Good girl, you're learning," she chuckles, and then kisses me gently.

"Ewwww!" both kids chorus, before turning the tv on, and then arguing over what to watch.

"Good morning, baby, last night was amazing by the way," she whispers, as Jeremy and Lindsey trade insults loudly.

"And so are you," I whisper back. "I love you."

"I love you too," she says, before I brush my lips against hers again, hoping we'll be afforded just a tiny bit of privacy because the kids are looking at the tv.

It wasn't to be though, the 'ewwww's' soon start up again.

"Turn the tv down, guys, I can't hear myself think," Catherine mumbles from under the duvet.

"You don't need to think, you're kissing Sara and you always say you can't think straight when you're kissing her anyway," Lindsey replies, and wrestles the remote from her cousin.

"Thinking straight?" I say in mock horror, "I should hope you're not thinking straight around me!"

Catherine's laugh rumbles against my chest. "Last night should prove I don't."

"What happened last night?" Jeremy asks conversationally, as he snatches the remote while Lindsey isn't looking.

"You crashed out like the lightweight you are," I tease him. "What's it gonna take for you two to amscray?"

"Excalibur on Saturday?" Lindsey tries it on.

"Not bad, troll face," Jeremy seems impressed, and she rolls her eyes him.

"How about you watch tv downstairs until we're up, and I won't ground you both for a month?" now I'm trying it on, and they look at me, as they consider it.

"You got a deal," Lindsey gets up and drags her cousin out of the room, closing the door behind them.

"Suckers," Catherine snickers, like we're nine years old too. "Wait for it…5…4…3…2…1…"

The door flies open again, and Jeremy pops his head in. "You can't technically ground me, I don't live here."

"Nice try kiddo, but while you're here, you get the same loss of privileges as Lindsey," Catherine winks at him.

"Ah man!" he shakes his head, and closes the door behind himself.

"Those two are beginning to frighten me," I say with a grin.

"They take after me and Nancy."

"Yeah I know, they never shut up, and so I figured they got it from you two," I giggle as she flips me on my back and leans over me.

I feel Catherine's hand snaking up my shirt, and while she knows we can't do anything because the kids are awake, she's going to tease me anyway. I let her, purely because I've turned into a pervert and she's like an addiction. Her fingers graze across my nipple, and I suck more oxygen in, in the hopes that my eyes will quit bouncing around in my sockets because of the way she's touching me.

"You're so easy," she husks, doing that thing she does, where she chuckles throatily in a breathless whisper sort of way.

Well, two can play at that game. I slide my hand down her side, across her hip and down her thigh, where she automatically leans to one side and allows me better access. As I cup her through the thin cotton of her underwear, her breath hitches, and it's my turn to chuckle.

"Now who's easy?"

"You weren't playing fair," she says. "You went in for the kill; I merely fondled you a bit."

"You're annoyed because I won this round. Doesn't matter in any case, the kids are home and you're not gettin' any, Willows." I grin evilly.

"Fine, I'll sort myself out," she says, flashing me an evil grin of her own, as she moves my hand out of the way and cups herself, instead.

Just moments later, I know she's gone commando as her underwear is thrown over the side of the bed, and her hand disappears under the covers again.

"Cath," I suddenly sound like a rusty hinge. "That's…sooo hot."

"Feels great too," she wiggles her eyebrows at me, then bites her bottom lip as she closes her eyes and moans very softly.

"Oh sweet Jesus," I groan, feeling the bed shudder under the weight of her movements. "Stop that."

"No."

"Then at least let me play too."

"No."

"Catherine Willows, if you don't quit being beastly toward me, I'm calling your mother."

"And tell her what, exactly? That I'm getting myself off?" she stills her hand, and laughs. "She'd kick your ass from here to Reno."

"Why do you insist on torturing me?" I complain, as my bottom lip wobbles in mock sulk mode.

"Call me strange, but it turns me on when you complain about it," she starts up the movement of her hand again, and my throat suddenly goes dry.

She turns over on her back, and presses her head into the pillow, as she speeds her movements up a little, and I'm left laying here feeling like the last kid in the queue when being picked for a team. Her gasps come in little breathy whispers and her hips move to and fro, as her entire body begins to rock back and forth in a gentle rhythm. She's driving me insane. Do I lay here and start playing my own game, or do I muscle my way in on hers or what?

"Catherine."

She stops again, and gives me the evil eye. "What? Are you gonna lay there complaining, or are you gonna gimme a hand here?"

"I'm not sure," I snort with laughter, but then quickly shut up when she turns her back on me and resumes her 'activities'.

Shit.

I very quickly decide I'm not going to let her get away with it, and I spoon her from behind, as my hand slides across her stomach and down to cover her own hand, where she is evidently very busy. She gasps quietly, pressing back into me as I slip inside her with ease, her arm bumping against mine as she helps the proceedings along a little. She hisses quietly, and flips over on her front, throwing her leg over my hip so she can allow me deeper access. She covers my lips with her own, her tongue snaking over mine, lips vibrating with silent moans. One arm threads its way around my neck, and pulls me closer, while the other hand slides between us again. This time the intention is not to touch herself, but to touch me, and I'm the one who's suddenly gasping when her hand slides inside my shorts and begins to rub against me. You wouldn't think we spent hours last night making love, yet here we are doing it again, as if we can't get enough of each other. A little voice tells me we shouldn't be doing this right now, not when the kids are here, but another little voice says it okay, because neither of them go anywhere without sounding like elephants on the stairs and we'd have time to stop.

"Oh god, Sara," she rests her forehead against mine, and speeds up the rhythm of her hand.

"Let it go for me baby, I'm right here with you," I murmur as I capture her lips again.

That is, until her cell phone rings.

"Fuck!" she swears loudly, and takes a few moments to compose herself before she reaches over for it, and takes a deep breath as she answers. "This better be good, Gil, you're not on my favourite list of people right now…okay, but you'll need to give us an hour…yeah, see you later."

"What's up?" I lean up on my elbow, as she rolls over toward me again.

"We're being called into work. Sometimes I could quite cheerfully strangle him."

"Ah, you're kiddin' me?"

"I kid you not. Dayshift is swamped, Swing shift has been called in already, and they're not making a dent in it."

"Let me guess, Sci-Fi Week?"

She nods. "Sci-Fi Week."

I throw the covers aside, and swing my legs out of bed. "I'm beginning to hate this job. I want a normal life."

"Quit pouting, you love it," she grins, taking hold of my hand and following me into the bathroom.

"I did, until it interfered with my quota of sex."

"It wouldn't have, if you were any faster," she says smoothly, as she flicks a wink over her shoulder.

"Yeah yeah, go on, blame the geek," I grin.

"If the geek hurries up, then we can finish what we started, in the shower," she says, as I lock the door behind us, and her t-shirt is thrown in my direction with a sultry grin.

I don't need telling twice.

***

I check the clock on the dash, the orange numbers glowing in the darkness and telling me it's almost 8pm. I haven't stopped all day, and I know Catherine has been equally as busy, but we haven't had the opportunity to work together much tonight. We've just been taking cases as and when they come, and pairing up with whoever is free. Which didn't really go all that well, and I knew inter-shift competition was strong but there's some real animosity going on.

That said, I did manage to get my own back. You know me, never one to shy away from a challenge; I set about driving them nuts. It's amazing how many different ways you can truly drive a person to distraction if you really try hard enough. Catherine and I were paired up with a guy named Tim earlier on this afternoon when we were investigating a road traffic accident. I think at one point, he was ready to jam his head in the glove box and cut his own oxygen off when I relished telling him about the most gruesome case I'd ever worked on. Okay, it was a teeny white lie; I hadn't worked on the case, because the case had come out of a crime novel. But it turned him an interesting shade of green, which was pretty entertaining because I'd never seen a man quite that colour before. Needless to say, he enthusiastically threw himself from the vehicle the minute we got back to the lab, and has refused to look in our direction since.

My phone rings and I snatch it from my belt, eager to answer it because the display tells me it's Catherine. "Sidle's care home, for the recently traumatised."

"You know Tim is never going to be the same right? Last time I saw him, he still hadn't touched his sandwich," she laughs on the other end. "Where are you babe?"

"Just parking up outside, now."

"Good, Grissom wants to see us all, before we go back out on assignment."

"Okay, I'll see you in five, sweetheart."

"Look forward to it, Sidle," she says huskily, which causes me to have flashbacks to this morning, and I grin uncontrollably about it.

A few short minutes later, I walk into the break room and see that it's utter chaos. I don't even recognise most of the people in here and I'm again reminded that thanks to Ecklie, there are two distinct elements in this lab, dayshift and Nightshift, and never the twain shall meet. Nobody seems to care about Swing shift; people seem to think it's made up of those that nobody else has any room for, so consequently nobody takes any notice of them. Except for that time last year, when it got interesting because Catherine was Swing shift Supervisor for a while, but even she was glad to re-join us.

"Can we have a little hush, please?" I hear Catherine's voice raised above the loud noise, as I step in the door.

The noise continues quite loudly, and I see her head suddenly appear over the crowd. She sticks her fingers in her mouth before whistling loudly, as the noise stops abruptly and everybody turns to face her.

"Thank you! Right, where are my crew?" she looks around for us, and we have to squeeze our way through the crowd to get to her. "Okay, listen up guys we got a…"

Before she's had chance to get halfway through her sentence, the noise starts up again even louder than before, and this time she's pissed.

"HEY! QUIET!" she looks at them exasperated. "If you're going to talk, do it a little less loudly. Ecklie, can't you have everyone spread out a little more? I don't know how the hell I'm meant to brief my shift if I can't hear myself think."

"Why are you briefing them, anyway?" he asks, grabbing a look at her ass, while I glare at him.

"No reason, I just happen to be Nightshift Assistant Supervisor, which means I'm in charge right now since Grissom is busy," she rolls her eyes at him.

Ecklie merely shrugs and turns his attention back to the guy he's talking to. I've noticed he's become a lot colder toward her since she and I got together, and while he never liked me before, now he's downright hostile whenever he has cause to talk to me. I just carry on smiling, because Catherine is amazing and she's mine and he hates it. After him bitching at Grissom almost constantly about us being an item and working together, I suspect he'd love to split us up at work, but there's absolutely nothing he can do about it, which pisses him off even more.

She grinds her teeth in his direction, and raises her voice again as she turns her attention to us instead. "Okay, here's what I'd like to do, if everyone from nightshift could please file out into the hallway, for me. You'll be given new assignments if required, and those of you who are still working on cases will shortly be allowed to get back to them, got it?"

Nods and murmurs abound as people shuffle out, and the room empties out considerably. She places her hands on my shoulders as I grab her around the waist, and set her back down on the floor. She winks at me, my face going warm as the entire lab seems to choose that exact moment to look in our direction. I watch her retreating form and quickly follow with a grin on my face, yep, she's definitely mine and the entire lab knows it. Thank you god, you've more than made up for everything else that's rained down on me from above.

"Right, those of you still working on cases…anybody got any problems they need to discuss?" Catherine's eyes wander over the assembled crowd.

"Yeah, I'm working a 419 in a warehouse and I got stuck going solo because there was nobody else available. Can I get some help please, Catherine?" Pete Murchison, one of our recent hires, stands on his tiptoes and looks over the crowd at her.

"I'll sort something out for you Pete, don't worry…where's Peewee? He should be just about done on that arson case," she refers to Tony Herman, otherwise known as Peewee for obvious reasons.

"I'm here, I'm here," he comes rushing up the corridor red faced. "Sorry, traffic is murder."

She smiles at this. "Peewee, can you do me a favour, and work secondary with Pete, please? He'll bring you up to speed on where he's at."

"No problem, Catherine," he nods and smiles as he joins Pete at the back.

"Anybody else?" she looks around and nobody else appears to have a problem. "Right, thanks guys. Those of you still working cases, on you go. Those that aren't, stay behind."

She methodically hands out assignment slips, and people pair up and go off to their scenes. I take this opportunity to lean against the wall and indulge in a fantasy or two. I swear there is nothing quite like watching Catherine in charge. She's confident, willing to listen, and doesn't take any shit so people know not to push her too far or take advantage of her good nature. They'd be dicing with death if they did, let me tell ya. No wonder I'm hooked. But the nicest part is, there's another side to her that they don't see. They see the confident sexy career woman who gets things done come hell or high water. Me? I get to see the softer, gentler, loving side of her.

The side that looks adorably grumpy some mornings when she wakes up, and the one that refuses to go to sleep unless she gets a goodnight kiss and is allowed to snuggle with me. They don't see how incredibly romantic or tender she can be, and the way she cries at films when she thinks nobody is looking, and then lets me hold her when she knows I am looking. I see all that and more, and there isn't a day that goes by that doesn't make me so happy that I had a chance with this amazing woman. I don't know what I've done to deserve it but I know this much, I will fight to keep her and if Eddie thinks I won't, he's seriously underestimating me.

Pretty soon it's just our team left, and just as she's about to sort us out, Grissom glides up the corridor and purloins the assignment slips. Completely oblivious to the fact she's doing just fine on her own, he takes charge again right at the very last minute and begins flapping around and chivvying us all about. She grits her teeth, knowing he is often completely oblivious to things like manners. But just lately, he's been different, so I wonder what's to blame for his apparent rudeness this evening. And then it clicks, he has somewhere to be in the morning.

"Nicky, I need you with Greg, armed robbery at Johnson's Car Dealership. Warrick, suspicious circs in Henderson. Ladies, I want you on a B & E in Summerlin."

"What did you get?" she asks, trying to get a look at his slip, as the guys grin and get back to work, knowing she's going to complain about Grissom any minute now.

"Nothing special," he says, with a slight smile, thereby indicating to us that he's lying his toady little head off.

"Gil…" she raises an eyebrow, indicating it would be smart to tell her.

"Incendiary device in a mailbox," he trots off, still snickering about the look on her face.

"Gilbert Grissom, you big sneak!" she puts her hands on her hips, and glares after him. "He did that on purpose, we've got the most boring case of the year, while he goes off and plays bomb squad."

"I'm the boss, I've earned the right to pick my own cases," his amused voice echoes from the other end of the hallway.

"Now he's stealing my lines," she throws her hands up in the air, and concentrates on glaring in his general direction in such a way that could very possibly make him spontaneously combust by the power of thought alone.

"Come on, Willows, we'll get you your very own bomb next time. Time for work now, wave and let's go bye bye," I grin at her, and start off toward the exit, as she slaps me on the rear end for my cheekiness.

"I've earned the right to pick my own cases," she mimics childishly. "Let's just see how he likes it when Terri gets here. I hope she bitches him out from hell to breakfast, it would serve the little sneak right."

Oh god, please tell me it ain't PMS.

"Sorry, babe," she smiles sheepishly at me. "Touch of PMS."

Oh dear god, shoot me now.

***

I steal a quick glance at Catherine as she gazes out of the window in quiet contemplation as I drive to our scene. As awful as it sounds, I would've found it easier working on my own, and then I wouldn't have had to keep pretending that everything is okay. Fact is, nothing is okay. Ever since Eddie kindly delivered his threat last night, I've not been able to relax, I feel sick with worry and it's getting worse. Everything seemed fine this morning, until I remembered his words just as we were leaving for work, and the heaviness descended on me again.

I think Catherine is beginning to realise that there's something seriously wrong, despite my attempts at hiding it. We're getting to know each other better all the time, and Catherine is more intuitive than most. I can tell she senses it, but so far she hasn't mentioned it, and I think she's hoping I'll talk to her about it before she has to ask. Pretty soon, that could be the case, because now matter how hard I try, I can't find a solution to the problem, at least not one that we could all be happy with. Not that I can really afford to tell her, because the first thing she'd do is hunt him down, and tighten her hands around his throat until he turned a lovely shade of blue.

See therein lays my dilemma. Normally, if I had a problem, Catherine would be the first person I'd go to. She's easy to talk to, she gives practical useful advice, and she can always seem to find a way around things. Except when it comes to her daughter, she's extremely protective of her and will go absolutely ballistic any time she perceives a threat. This is why I'm pretty sure she'd rush in before she had time to think, and I know we have to avoid that at all costs, because Lindsey would be gone before she could blink. Eddie said as much, and I really don't want that to happen.

It feels as if I'm beginning to lead a double life here. I'm doing the one thing I said I'd never do, and that's keep secrets from her. But at what point does protecting somebody you care about cross the line, and become a case of lying to them? I'm pretty sure I missed something that everybody else seems to know. Once upon a time, I was the scientific, logical, unapproachable and completely closed off Sara Sidle that I'd had to learn to be. For a time, my friends in Frisco changed all that, but once I was back out in the world on my own, my old fears reasserted themselves and before I knew where I was, I was back behind the glass wall that kept the rest of the world at bay.

I hate being that person. Granted, science was important to me, being logical equally so. But it didn't keep me warm at night, and it still wouldn't if I found myself on my own again. It didn't hold me when I felt scared, didn't dry my tears when I felt so lonely that it would feel like my heart would break in two. Science didn't nurture me, or love me, or make me feel as if I had a purpose in life beyond remembering to breathe, although I tried to convince myself it did.

Catherine on the other hand, does all of that, and more. She makes me want to forget about that logical side of myself that only sees the world in black and white, because I never believed I deserved anything beyond it. But she makes me believe that I do, she makes me want to be the kind of person who believes that anything is possible, even when science tells me it isn't. I'm only human, and we all need to dream, we all need to let go and have fun, and act nuts once in a while. I fully believe that life is too short to take anything too seriously, unless you have to. And these past few weeks, has seen me doing exactly that.

With Catherine, I can be the person I want to be, not the person I felt I had to be. So I'll continue ranting away like a mad woman, say and do stupid things just because I can, because Catherine loves me and for the first time in my life, I'm truly happy. And that's why I can't slide back into being the old me, if I do that then I've lost her forever, because I'll shut myself off and Eddie will have achieved what he set out to do. That's why I know I have to tell her, irregardless of whether she will go through the roof or not, because I can only protect her for so long, and in the end, the decision is hers to make. So fuck Eddie, and fuck his little games. The minute I get a chance, I'll gonna tell her and I'll just have to hope she listens.

I'm practically on autopilot and before I know it, we're already inside the property we've been sent to investigate. This case doesn't really require us both, but Grissom knows we've spent most of the day apart and he still has us officially paired off, even though we've more than learnt to get along. I mean, she and I are living together now, so I'd say he's more than achieved his aims. Having said that, we enjoy spending all day with each other. We hadn't had a cross word, and living in each other's pockets seems to suit us. Yeah, I know, its enough to make you sick.

"Saz, come here a minute, please?" she kneels near the window, and motions for me to come closer.

"Can tell you've been on the phone to John recently," I laugh at the use of my nickname.

"It's cute, I like using it," she grins at me, and then points her flash light at a small piece of jagged glass. "Does that look like blood to you?"

She knows it is. She just wanted an excuse to get me within six inches of her. I get a better look, leaning much closer to her than I really have to, just like she wanted. It's a little game we've devised, whereby we can be as close as we like whenever we need to under the guise of looking at the evidence. It's weird how things change, at one point she and I would try and work a crime scene with as much distance between us as we possibly could, and now you'd be hard pressed to fit fresh air between us.

"I'd say so," I reply, with satisfaction, knowing if they have previous, we'll pick them up pretty soon. "Here you go Sherlock, knock yourself out swabbin' it."

"You're in a cheeky mood tonight," she grins, and takes the swab from me, before she carefully gets a sample of the blood. She then removes the piece of glass from the frame and bags it.

"I'm trying for getting laid, why else would I misbehave?" I make the effort to try and be normal, there's no sense making myself ill with worry, not when I've made the decision to tell her.

"Again?" she says, pretending to look shocked. "That's what, eight times already this week?"

"Ah, you're keeping count," I chuckle. "It would have been double that number if I'd had more energy, but between Grissom and Lindsey, I'm beginning to flag."

"That's why you're ordering me around then? Saving your energy by being bone idle." she nudges me with a laugh.

"Nope, this is foreplay. It's my turn to play at being Nightshift Assistant Supervisor, because you've been clearly having too much fun in that role, tonight. From now on, you're a lowly CSI Level 3 with absolutely no management responsibilities."

"In that case, I've got a stack of paperwork on my desk that you can play around with. I'll borrow your lab and put my feet up while I listen to rock music and eat potato chips."

"Busted," I laugh. "I was at a loose end, and you were in a meeting."

"You were slacking off, because you're sleeping with the Nightshift Assistant Supervisor, and you thought you'd get away with it," she chuckles, as we begin gathering evidence bags together, and storing them in a cardboard evidence box for transport.

"Not to mention having photographic evidence of my supervisor indulging in transvestism. I could probably get an office, and my own team on the strength of that," I grin wickedly, as we move onto the next stage of our investigation.

"I never realised you could be this ruthless," she watches as I kneel down this time and inspect a faint series of marks on the wooden floor, using the flashlight to get a better look at the nearest print so that I could photograph it before lifting it.

"Could you pass me the electrostatic dust print lifter, please, honey?" I bat my eyelashes at her, and she does. "Thanks. I can be ruthless; I just don't do it very often."

"What if I told you ruthless people got laid more often?" she laughs as my head shoots up.

"You wanna take care of this? I'll be in the car, honking the horn at five minute intervals making sure you work your ass off."

"I said ruthless people got laid more often, I didn't say you would," she snickers as I shoot a mock glare in her direction.

"I was gonna propose to you later on, don't think I'll bother now," I watch with satisfaction as her mouth drops open. "Result."

"That wasn't funny, I'd marry you tomorrow but I don't want to be the one tell my mother," she giggles.

"Oh god, I wouldn't want to tell her either, she's only just decided she'll let me live. Definitely looks like shoe prints," I say, holding the print up so I can see it better. "It's very faint, but its there."

"Nice work, sweetness," she takes a look, as I hand the sheet to her. "Size 10, 11 maybe?"

"I concur, Captain, and we're probably looking for a male assailant. If not, I feel sorry for any woman with boats that big."

She snorts, and shakes her head at me. "You've been watching Star Trek again."

"God, first my science programs and now Star Trek. Are you ever gonna let me watch anything?" I banter back and forth with her, trying to dispel the gloomy feeling inside.

I'm edging back to feeling hopeless again, and I keep trying to tell myself that as soon as I get the opportunity to tell her, that everything will be okay because she'll know what to do, she always does, she's smart.

"Yeah, provided I don't need a physics degree to get any further than the opening credits."

"You're a very intelligent woman, sweetheart, you understand it just fine. You just pretend not to, because you don't think it's as sexy as when you cry all over me because you're watching the Hallmark Channel."

She follows me across the hall and into the kitchen, where the Perp evidently made himself at home, because the kitchen counter still contains the remnants of his gourmet munchfest. Foie Gras, Prosciutto, stuffed olives, and a bottle of Christal. Not bad, the people who live here must have some serious cash. A look at the contents of my fridge would pale in comparison: a six pack of Bud and a half empty jar of Cheez Whiz that looks older than Lindsey.

"I don't always cry," she gets busy dusting for prints at the back door.

"You always do, because there's always somebody on there with a fatal disease. Don't you find it a bit depressing?"

"I'm a sensitive soul, I can't help it," she waves her fingerprint brush at me.

"If only the entire lab knew that Catherine Willows kick ass CSI, cried at the Hallmark Channel," I giggle at the prospect.

"You tell anyone, and you know that fatal disease thing you were talking about? You'll have one," she raises an eyebrow at me, as she begins lifting the couple of prints she found.

"I got one already, it's called being in love," I shoot back.

"I don't know whether to slap you for that, or be touched in a really weird way," she laughs, and snaps her gloves off. "That's me finished. You done?"

"Certainly am, sweet cheeks," I nod, as her cell phone rings.

"Willows. Catherine's expression changes and she rolls her eyes. It must be Grissom. "Right, we'll be there, in about twenty minutes."

"Another case?" I ask, when she hangs up.

"Yeah, apparently there's nobody else free, and he's eager to make up for stealing the most interesting case of the night."

"Or it could just be that he's giving us this case, because he's picking the doc up at the airport in the morning…" I trail off, letting her think about it.

"That sneaky…" she closes her eyes and counts to ten quietly. "I'm calm, he's a sneaky asshole, but I'm calm."

"He's trying to get out of there on time so he can get laid," I chuckle.

"Aren't we all, honey," she husks, as I begin drooling.

"Doesn't look like we're getting to go home any time soon, though. What kind of case we got?" I ask, as I pack my stuff neatly back into my kit.

"419 downtown. Fatal gunshot wound, male Vic, right outside The Bellagio."

"I can think of worse cases," I pick up my scene case. "We might be able to catch a show. Could be pretty romantic, if you ignore the stiff."

"Did I ever tell you, that you're weird?" she grins.

"Several times, and you love it, or why else would you encourage me?"

***

By the time we get to The Bellagio, it becomes readily apparent that Vegas is indeed in a state of total chaos. The Strip is crawling with tourists, and even though I can see the police cruisers with their flashing lights, I can't see the crime scene, and so that would suggest to me that it hasn't been secured properly. That's not a good thing, especially not with a crowd this size, and especially not during a murder case. The defence team at trial would have a field day. Catherine looks extremely ticked off about it, and I can't say that I blame her. Whoever is in charge here isn't managing the scene properly, and they're about to catch hell from her.

"Hey," Jim Brass suddenly appears, and helps steer us in the direction of the scene.

"What the hell is going on?" Catherine asks, over the noise of the crowd.

"I don't know, I just got here myself," he undoes his top button, and loosens his tie, before mopping his brow. "Vegas is crazy tonight, I haven't had a minute to myself."

"Vegas is always crazy," she replies, instantly calming down because it isn't his fault, as she takes hold of my hand whilst we try to force our way through the crowd. "But it doesn't help when all the hotels in town are offering 25 off because of Sci-Fi Week."

"Hey Simpson," Brass barks at a nearby officer. "Where'd they teach you to secure a crime scene? The Keystone Academy?"

The officer scowls, and looks harried as he pushes members of the crowd back. "I can't help it. I've got six officers on scene to control a crowd of about two hundred people, which equals not enough in my opinion."

"Well radio in for backup, you moron," Brass gives him a dressing down, as Catherine and I finally get to the front of the crowd, and duck under the yellow crime scene tape.

I stand back and get a good look at my surroundings. The victim is a white male, is between 40 to 45 years of age, perhaps close to six feet in height, and of lean build. The body is laying face up on the sidewalk, approximately two feet from the edge of the railing around the perimeter of the lake. A gunshot wound in the middle of the forehead, is the obvious cause of death at this point, but we'll know more once we've taken a look and gotten the Assistant Coroner's opinion. But he's obviously wealthy, he's wearing an expensive looking suit, and I'm guessing the big Rolex on his wrist is expensively authentic. I'm confident we can rule out robbery as a motive and I say as much as Catherine nods her agreement.

"Oh shit," Catherine says under her breath, and puts her hands on her hips in an 'oh why me' gesture.

"What's wrong?" I snap on some gloves, and stand beside her.

"I'd be surprised if you and I got home before Lindsey's next birthday," she echoes my earlier comment.

"Why?"

"The Vic," she points to the body. "Danny Scolari."

"Oh god, not _the_ Danny Scolari?" I'd never seen him face to face, only in pictures.

Danny Scolari was Vegas' very own drug baron. And despite numerous attempts to pin him down, by all accounts, he was Mr Teflon.

"The one and only. I'd be surprised if this didn't start a turf war," she says, and she'd be right, because I can imagine his associates, for the want of a better word, would be just a teensy bit royally pissed that he was dead.

"Gonna need some luck finding the worm that did this, and even if we do, I'd be surprised if he wasn't dead before the ink dried on the arrest warrant."

"I'm beginning to think you're right, we need new jobs," she sighs heavily, and calls Brass over. "Looks like it's going to be one of those nights."

He saunters across to us, looking tired and out of sorts. "What's up, ladies?"

"Hate to ruin your night Jim, but say hello to a very dead Danny Scolari," she bends over and retrieves a pair of latex gloves, before slipping them on.

"Oh goddamnit," he groans, and rubs a hand over his face. "Some nights I wonder why I do this job. I swear this place is turning into Dodge City."

"You know what they say about Dodge," Catherine grins.

"I tried gettin' the hell out, keeps pulling me back in. I'll call the coroner, by the time he gets here. and fights his way through the crowd, you should be done."

I wish I had his confidence.

"Thanks, but before you do, we need the scene cordoning off properly. We also need to keep prying eyes out, we especially don't need the media hanging around once word gets out," she says and she's got a valid point, the last thing we need is for this to get plastered all over the ten o'clock news.

"You got one of those screen things in the truck?" he asks, as he ponders on the problem.

"God knows," she shrugs, and turns to me with a grin. "Have we got one of those screen things in the truck?"

"Why does everyone ask me?" I roll my eyes with a laugh.

"If it requires being put together or taken apart, you're the first one I come looking for, sweetie," she winks, brazenly.

"That's code for, Sara, shift your ass and go put my shelter up. Slave driver," I shake my head and wander off back to the truck.

I return several minutes later with what I assume to be the item she's looking for. We don't tend to use them very often, but I guess its going to come in handy tonight. I roll my sleeves up, and begin assembling it, and pretty soon we have ourselves a private space amidst all the chaos.

"She's a genius," Catherine beams, as Jim chuckles.

"Alright spill, you're being entirely too nice, what are you after now?" I chuckle, as she goes to flash me the finger and thinks twice about it because Jim's standing there.

"Aww ain't it sweet, together five minutes and the urge to kill each other is strong already," he laughs, and mops his brow again, even though the night air is cool.

"I've always wanted to kill her, tonight is no different," she says, playing for and getting a laugh from him.

"Funny," I stick my tongue out at her. "Are we actually going to get some work done, or are you two senior citizens gonna stand there and gossip all night?"

"Ooh grumpy," Jim teases. "Here's my reinforcements, I'll let you ladies get on with your work."

Very shortly after, we hear the sounds of the crowd being pushed further back, and loud complaints to the effect float on the night air. The scene is now adequately secure, and there are enough officers to stop anyone getting near, so we're finally able to begin our work.

A quick check of the perimeter of the scene yields nothing, and I'm glad it no longer includes tourists falling over each other to get a look at what's going on. Cath and I meet up in the middle, and kneel down either side of the body. We're technically not allowed to touch the body until the Assistant Coroner gets here, but we are allowed to check for identification, just so that we can confirm he is who we think he is. As Catherine moves his jacket aside to check in his pocket, she pulls out his wallet and flips it open.

"There must be at least five grand in here," she says in awe, a thick wad of cash clearly visible. She then pulls his driving licence out, and shows it to me. "Definitely Scolari."

"Suppose it was too much to hope that it was a look-a-like," I say with a sigh, and carefully check his other inside pocket.

"What you got?" Catherine asks, looking interested.

"9mm Beretta," I hold the gun between my thumb and forefinger, before checking to make sure the chamber is empty, and sliding the clip out to make sure the gun is safe for transport.

"Murder weapon? Looks recently fired," she says, as I hand the bag to her, and she examines the gun, which we'll check for fingerprints back at the lab.

"Could very well be," neither of us could tell without the actual bullet, but judging by the size of the wound, it's possible. "Wonder why they didn't toss it in the lake, or take it with them, as opposed to leaving it with the body?"

"Good question, I'm glad they didn't though, I don't fancy wading around in there."

"Why not, you look great in a bikini."

"You want half of Vegas admiring my rack too?" Catherine asks, raising an eyebrow, as the corner of her mouth tugs upwards in a smile.

"Good point, but I'm willing to allow it just this once, for the sake of science," I laugh, as she shakes her head and ignores the comment.

I watch as she gets down on her knees and bends over close to the pavement, as she tries to get a look at the back of the victim's head without touching him. Typically for Catherine, her brain is racing along at a hundred miles an hour, as she formulates a theory as to what could have happened. Usually, she's more often that not correct, or near enough to say she's at least more than half right.

I tend to try to work the same way now if I can, because if there's one thing she taught me, it's this: relying on the physical evidence to tell the story as Grissom always says is fine, but sometimes the evidence doesn't tell the whole story, and the whys are sometimes just as critical as the how's. Having said that, I can't even begin to conjecture what happened here. I don't know Vegas the way Catherine does. I've not had the same experience of what goes on behind the bright lights, and I'll be relying almost entirely on her instincts for this one.

"We should check his hands for GSR, when David gets here," she says, mentally going through her personal checklist.

We both knew that testing the victim's hands wasn't necessary, but somebody somewhere along the line would want to know why we hadn't. In this case, the victim would have to be good to shoot himself in the forehead, and place the gun back in his pocket before he finally decided to turn his toes up and croak. The guy also couldn't have grabbed the gun because he'd have been dead a few short seconds later, even before he'd hit the floor. But some asshole attorney somewhere was going to attempt to discredit us all, and we had to be ready. Just as we did for every case, and this was no exception.

Testing for GSR wasn't always conclusive anyway, even people who haven't been anywhere near a gun can still have traces of Barium and Antimony on their hands. Also, having GSR traces on your hands doesn't always differentiate from having fired a weapon, as opposed to just handling one. And in any case, if somebody had washed their hands, or there had been more than a few hours in-between firing the weapon and being tested, then it would be useless to do so because there would be little or no traces left. And I won't even get into the fact that not all ammunition contains both Barium and Antimony.

Music suddenly blares on the night air, and the sounds of water being fired under pressure from the fountains, echo all around us, announcing that the next show has started. The crowd begins cheering, and it's getting so loud that I can't hear myself think. I hope the officers are continuing to keep the crowd back, because I really don't fancy having to work the crime scene from the lake.

"Wanna lay it out?" she asks, knowing that for the moment, there's no more we can do until David arrives.

"Other than stating the obvious and saying he was shot somewhere in-between being here and being alive, I've no idea. Go ahead; I'm interested to know what your train of thought is."

"I'm not entirely sure, either, but I do know he wasn't killed here," Catherine says, as she finishes labeling the last of the evidence, and stows it in the evidence box. "Aside from guessing that nobody reported gunshots, there's no blood on the pavement, and there's none at the back of his head, so it wasn't a through and through and his circulation had quit long before be ended up here. There isn't any leakage from the wound onto his clothes, nor is there any sign of obvious trace evidence, so somebody was meticulous."

"Looking at a professional hit, then," I say as she nods. "How the hell would you just dump a corpse in one of the busiest streets in the world?" I take my gloves off, and rub the talc from my hands.

"In a crowd this size, how many people would notice, or even question a couple of guys apparently holding their drunken friend up?"

"I don't know, I can't say for sure. We tend to notice stuff like that but we're inquisitive by nature because it's our job to be."

"Exactly, but as for Joe Public? They're here for the show, they're not looking at anything else," she snaps her gloves off and tosses them into her kit, as I nod my agreement.

"What are you thinking? Your mind's been ticking into overdrive since the minute we got here."

She looks down at the floor, bites her lip as if in quiet contemplation, and then squints up me. "Just a niggling feeling."

"What kind of niggling feeling?" I'd learnt to trust her niggling feelings, they'd paid off before.

"Plain view of the Tangiers," she says, looking pointedly at me, her gaze holding mine.

"And that's important because?"

"Sam owns the Tangiers," she replies, and I had forgotten that he did, till now.

"Sweetheart, you'll have to forgive me for being a bit slow here, but what would this have to do with Sam?"

"Danny Scolari has been waving his ass at Sam for years. He spent a lot of money and time in the Tangiers, mostly buying and selling drugs in quantities most of us would be amazed at. But Sam could never prove anything, because nothing ever changed hands on the premises, and you don't piss a guy like Scolari off unless you want a half a dozen holes where your chest used to be. Sam might be a lot of things, but he isn't stupid and I guess he figured the old adage was true, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer still. The cops have been after him for a long time too, but nothing ever sticks. The only way to get rid of somebody like Scolari, is to bump him off."

"But wouldn't that be next to impossible? These guys are usually surrounded by minders."

"Exactly, so whoever it was that popped him," she makes a shooting motion with her hand, "had to have been somebody he either trusted, or somebody he didn't believe posed a threat anyway."

"Could it be connected to Tony?" I say, referring to Sam's son, who had been killed by his brother Walt three months ago. "He must have done business with Scolari over the years."

"It's always been said that Tony bought enough coke from Danny to finance his Malibu beach house. I wouldn't be surprised if Sam hadn't bided his time. He's old school, he doesn't believe in drugs. I found that out the hard way."

"You're not really suggesting Sam did it though, are you?" I ask, thinking that there could be dozens of opportunists out there who'd been in the right place at the right time, and managed to bump him off.

"I wouldn't say he's incapable. When any major player gets bumped off in this town, I always ask myself whether Sam was involved. Only problem with that kind of question is he's always got a motive. I'm not saying he's responsible, just saying the niggling feeling is there."

"Is the guy really that dangerous?" I suspect her answer will be yes, and if it is, we're definitely moving to Alaska.

"He is, if you cross him. He might be my father," she moves closer to me when the music gets louder, and a jet of water is shot 250 feet into the air, "but even I don't fully trust him. Just another reason I've never told anybody he's my father, not even Eddie, because as much as I want him out of my life, I wouldn't wish Sam on him."

I nod my understanding, she'll only ever tell Eddie about Sam when she's relatively certain she has to, but she knows she runs the risk of Sam taking drastic measures. I can't really say I'm shocked, I knew he had a reputation, and she's just basically confirmed most of it is true. Not that I would ever have gone to him to ask for help over Eddie anyway, because he's the kind of man to want something in return and there's no way I'm playing those games with him, that option is completely off the table.

"If it is him, we'll never know," I look across the lake, and then back at her again. "He's not that stupid."

"Yeah I know, I'm sure he's had plenty of practice," she says, sounding more of a realist than a cynic, and I can't argue with that.

"Why Sam, though?" I still didn't fully understand where she was coming from. "I mean, there's any number of people around here that would be more than happy to take a cut of the action once this guy was dispatched."

"You know anyone with enough balls to not only kill Scolari, but dump his body out on the middle of the Strip on a night like this? There's only one man with enough neck to do it, and he's probably watching what's going on from his office window, not even half a mile from where we are right now," she says, and not only does she have a point, but she's managed to send a chill down my spine too. "I'll never prove it, but I'll always wonder."

"Listen babe, I say this with the greatest love and affection, but your family is a bunch of wacko's and if you really love me, you'll emigrate with me to the North Pole, or somewhere equally as difficult to get to," I grin cheekily, and not for the first time today.

She laughs at this, and the bright lights of Vegas catch her eyes and make them sparkle. She takes my breath away, and I'm determined not to lose her, I love her too much for that. I know that I've made the right decision in deciding to tell her. I want to protect her, but I know that I'll have to protect her in a way that means she'll be made aware of the truth.

I just hope to god that she doesn't go postal before I've handcuffed her to the bed for the three weeks it will take for her to calm down. Eddie has pushed her beyond her limits these past few months, she's scared and she's angry, and yet she tries to keep it all inside. To everyone else she seems fine, but I know she isn't and she won't admit it, even to me. I want her to realise that she doesn't have to be strong all the time, that she's always got me to fall back on, but she finds it hard to be any different, and I can't say I really blame her what with everything Eddie put her through. I've been in her shoes, I know exactly what it feels like, and I didn't have anyone to protect me at the time, which is why I tried to shield her from it. But all roads lead to Rome, and no matter how many times I think about it, or try to convince myself otherwise, the fact remains: she has to be told.

"Where do you go when you do that? When you're thinking?" she asks, her eyes looking right into my soul. "Especially lately, you'll look at me and then you're off somewhere inside your head."

We move away from the body while we wait for David to arrive and lean against the railing. The view over the lake is pretty, and were it any other time, I'm sure I'd be mesmerised by the water, the lights, and the sheer proximity of the woman I love more than life itself.

"With just one look, you take my breath away and I get lost in my dreams," I explain with a smile.

She begins grinning, and her grin gets wider. "What kind of dreams?"

"Not kinky ones, if that's what you're thinking," I reply, and she pouts with disappointment, before grinning again.

"You're getting boring in your old age."

"Okay I'll own up, they're sometimes kinky," I admit with a smile, "but tonight it was about how much I love you, and how I don't want to lose you."

"I love you too, honey," she rests her arm against mine and gazes into my eyes, knowing we can't have proper physical contact while we're at work, but we're as close as we possibly could be under the circumstances, "and you've got more chance of Grissom wearing heels to work than you have of losing me, I promise you."

"See, that worries me, because I could actually see that happening," I giggle.

She scrunches her nose up and nods. "You know what, me too. Bad example, but you know it'll never happen right?"

"I hope so."

"Jesus, Sidle, you're cheerful tonight," she teases, and nudges me with her arm.

"Next time we have a night off, we're coming back here and we'll try this again. That way, we can watch the show, I can hold you close, kiss you until you're breathless and then you'll know exactly how I feel when I look at you," I'm sure I'm blushing, but she's gone back to grinning like a maniac again.

"Oh I love this romantic side of you, who knew, huh? You used to march around the lab with a face like a wet weekend, who knew so much passion bubbled under the surface," she giggles wickedly.

"Shut up, Willows," I blush even further which causes her to carry on laughing about it.

"But I'd be very happy to be your date for the evening, I can't promise any more than that though, because I'm in a relationship with a cute brunette and she might take offence."

"She freakin' well would if she caught you talking to anyone else like this!" my eyebrows reach my hairline as we both laugh.

"That's where you don't have to worry, I'm extremely faithful, never cheated on anybody, never would. Like I told you before, I don't see the sense in looking elsewhere when I've found the woman that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with."

"I wish you both luck Cath, I feel sorry for her though," I laugh as she forgets where she is, and nudges me in the ribs. "But seriously, I know and I trust you completely, or we wouldn't be where we are now. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to spend forever with you."

I can't keep doing this, I need to tell her and I need to tell her right now.

"Cath, there's something I need to talk to you about," I take a deep breath and prepare to tell her, until the plastic gets pushed aside and David waves at us, as he waits for permission to come stomping in.

"Hey Sara, Hi Catherine," he blushes automatically, the same way he always does, especially now that he knows we're together.

"David," Cath grins at him. "We're all done; you can do your thing."

"Crazy busy tonight, huh?" I say, as he shakes a body pouch open, and I curse his lousy timing.

"Tell me about it, my assistant is still trying to get the van closer to the scene, its nuts," he works quickly and diligently, before looking up at us again. "COD looks like a single gunshot wound to the forehead. Let's see, given the Vic's temp and the ambient air temperature, I'd tentatively place time of death between 7 and 7:30pm this evening."

"Great, can we get some fingernail scrapings, and go over him for GSR?" she asks, hands poised over her kit.

"Sure," he blushes again as he smiles, and keeps a watchful eye on us as she gently scrapes under the nails, and I run the adhesive disc used for collecting GSR over his palms. "Prints?"

"Its easier doing it at the lab, I'd rather get all this wrapped up as soon as possible," she replies, labeling the envelope and securing it in her scene case.

Jim soon appears, looking as if he's pissed off with his lot in life. I can't say I blame him, I would be too, but then if we'd wanted the nine to five life, we'd be off doing something a little more mundane.

"Jesus, that's gotta be the first time I've attempted to interview a crowd that size," he mops his brow, and takes a deep breath.

"Any luck?" I ask, as Catherine stifles a yawn, and rubs her eyes.

"Nobody remembers seeing anything. The first they knew about it was when some broad screamed, and tripped over the corpse."

"Gunshots?" I ask while I remember.

"None reported," he shakes his head.

"Was he already on the deck?" Catherine asks this time, trying to slot another piece of the puzzle into its place.

"She says she saw two guys haulin' their apparently drunk buddy along, and then all of sudden, he was on the floor and she tripped over him. She noticed the hole in his head, and screamed blue murder."

"Ah shit, how do you always do that?" I ask her, as I slap my hand against my thigh in a cheesed off gesture.

"I can't help being good, babe," she shrugs her shoulders with a shit eating grin. "It's just natural gift, I guess."

"God, doesn't it make you sick?" I roll my eyes, as Brass chuckles.

"Tried gettin' a description of the guys but she only saw them from the back, they quickly disappeared into the crowd, and she didn't see them again. Now the media are trying to get a shot of the body, pardon the pun, and we're no closer to finding who did this until you do that geeky stuff you do back at the lab."

"And even then I wouldn't guarantee it," Catherine says with a sigh. "If you hear anything else, keep us posted."

"Sure thing," he smiles.

David soon has the body zipped inside a pouch, and we're both soon able to leave the scene. Jim escorts us back to the Tahoe, and tells us to keep him informed, which of course we'd forget to do because it isn't like we do this often, it isn't like we sometimes do this several times a night. Oops getting a little sarcastic here, I'm either horny or tired, could be both actually. Catherine is wearing jeans tonight so that could account for it. As I drive away from the scene, I open my mouth to pick up where I left off before, and tell her about Eddie but her cell phone rings and its Grissom, so I take the hint and concentrate on driving. Later, I'll tell her later.

The lab is still in a state of chaos, and for once, I'm glad we've pulled a difficult case. It means I can concentrate on the task at hand, instead of being assigned to numerous different cases, and have trouble keeping up. I know when all of this is over though, I'll end up spending a fortnight in court, we all will, and people will begin to wonder which one of us is banging the DA.

I take a sip of my coffee and swallow it quickly when I realise it's still slightly too hot, as I take I advantage of the relative peace and quiet that Catherine's office affords me, while I set about finishing off a stack of paperwork. Ecklie appears to have requisitioned my lab for something or other, and I can't get any peace in there. Maybe they're desperately trying to find a cure for male pattern baldness. But I have news for the asshole, he could grow his hair halfway down his back and he'd still be a prick.

I just hope that the case will start moving along soon. I'd like to get home sometime in the near future, not to mention do something as outrageous as spend some time with my two special girls, eat, and get some much needed sleep. Still, we do seem to have copped for the biggest case of the month, and it gives me a sort of grim satisfaction to know that for once, we can demand our tests get priority over everyone else's and it will actually happen. The case at the moment though is largely at a standstill. The autopsy can't be brought forward, Doc Robbins is already too busy and we'll have to wait our turn. But we are running as many tests as we can right now. The weapon has been dusted for fingerprints and the few partials we found are being checked out. The Vic's was printed on arrival at the morgue, and his prints will be checked for comparison against the prints on the weapon. The fingernail scrapings have been sent to DNA and his clothes as well as the GSR samples have been sent to Trace, but we're not all that hopeful. The body was too clean, so clean that we definitely still think somebody wanted it that way.

I'm not so sure I really want either of us working this case anymore, especially if Catherine's suspicions are correct, and Sam is involved. But I remind myself we don't have proof, and until we have proof then no ethical lines have been crossed. Hopefully it also means I'll get to live longer. I'm not worried about Catherine where Sam is concerned, he worships the ground she walks on, and he knows she isn't afraid of him. We've already established he could do away with me if he wanted to, and with Scolari dead, I might have moved one further up the queue.

There's a tap at the door. "Sara?"

I turn around in Cath's chair, and smile across the desk at Mandy. "What can I do for you?"

"I er," she looks around the office nervously. "Is Catherine around?"

"She's with Grissom at the moment, why what's the matter?"

"I need you to come look at something, please."

"Sure," I reply and leave my paperwork as I head toward the fingerprint lab, feeling apprehension bubbling in my stomach.

She sits back down in front of her computer, and does something geeky with the keyboard, that even I wouldn't understand, and a print pops up onscreen.

"This is the print from the gun, which you submitted to me earlier on tonight, right?" she points at the screen, looking just as uneasy as I feel.

"Right," I nod; I'm with her so far.

"I'm gonna press search again, right?" she does, and I'm still with her, why is she explaining this like I'm a five year old?

"Mandy, what's going on?"

"That's what's going on," she points to the computer once again, as it beeps, and a perfect match is thrown up.

To say I'm surprised would be an understatement, because I was so sure the gun would be clean in the first place, and I wasn't sure if the partials would actually be good enough for a match. I'm so totally gobsmacked that you could have had the occupants of the playboy mansion march past me stark naked, and writhing provocatively and it still wouldn't be enough to make me utter a word.

"This isn't a mistake right?" I ask, nearly a full five minutes later when I manage to find my voice again.

She shoots me a withering look, as only Mandy could. "Not a mistake. I checked it, more than once."

"And you've run them against the decedent's prints?"

"Yes, and they aren't his prints on the weapon," she rolls her eyes, and looks at the screen again. "It's not a mistake; the record kicked out matches the partials from the gun, without a doubt."

"Right, thank you. Keep it all together for me, please? I'll need to come back later," I say, as she nods, and gets busy doing something else.

I wind my way down the hallway towards Grissom's office, and automatically pat my pockets in search of a cigarette. No matter how many times I try to give up, something happens and I feel myself heading right back toward starting again. I have a feeling that before the night is out; I will have indulged, yet another time. I take a deep breath and round the corner, knocking on Grissom's doorframe. He's on the phone and waves at me, while Catherine turns and smiles from where she's sitting in front of his desk.

"Cath, we've got a problem," I say straight off, and kneel beside her chair as her face drains of all colour, because she can tell by the expression on my face that something is wrong.

"Of course I'll be there, you know I wouldn't miss a chance like that, my little peach," Grissom coos into the phone, and turns pink when Catherine and look askance at him.

"Hit me with it, I know I probably won't like it, but hit me with it," she rests her palms on her thighs with a slight thudding sound.

"Got a hit off the partials we found on the gun," I reply, and take another deep breath. "You're right, you won't like it."

"It can't be Sam," she says in a voice barely above a whisper, because Grissom is within earshot. "He's not that stupid."

"Is there a problem with your case?" Grissom is now off the phone, and looks at us with concern.

"Huge problem," I nod, "It's just turned seven different shades of difficult. Got several partials off of the gun, and IAFIS kicked out a match."

"Who is it?" she tries again, looking more than a little rattled.

"Eddie," I say, as her eyebrows shoot up in shock. "Eddie's print was on the weapon."


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 22 **

The clock on Grissom's office wall ticks loudly, masking what would otherwise be a deafening silence. But if the rapid beating of my heart becomes any faster, I'm sure the entire lab would hear it. My stomach clenches tightly into a knot, as I realise Catherine hasn't uttered a word since Eddie's name was mentioned, and focuses on the floor as if she's a million miles away, irretrievably lost in thought.

She opens and closes her mouth several times, signaling that she's just about to say something but instead, remains silent and goes back to looking confused. I can't say I blame her; even I haven't worked out how I'm feeling about this, so it comes as no surprise that she appears to be speechless.

Grissom hovers awkwardly on the opposite side of his desk, and begins fiddling with his collar, a sure sign he's a little uncomfortable. I wonder why, until I notice the vein throbbing in Catherine's forehead, and begin to feel a little uncomfortable myself. Every time I think I've witnessed the pinnacle of her anger, there's always a little more to come.

The funny thing is, people look at Catherine and assume that when she's not playing her nurturing role, she's perpetually pissed off. I was surprised to find that outside of work, Catherine very rarely loses her temper, and the few times she has done lately, has been totally justified. She's usually calm and rational, and will look at whatever the problem is with a clarity that I'm not sure I could manage most days. Of course, when you bring Eddie into it, her serenity always rapidly dissipates, and she's forced into overdrive. I can't really say that I blame her. I've been given an insight into what he's really like, and I can honestly say that I don't know where the hell she got the strength from to be married to him.

"I'm going to kill the bastard," she says eventually, and stands up so suddenly that I'm taken aback, and almost lose my balance from where I'm kneeling at the side of her chair.

I refrain from mentioning that if she waits long enough; the State may do it for her. Grissom shoots me a worried look, as we see her rapidly entering a state of cold fury, in a way that's more than a little scary. It's a response I'm quickly becoming used to, though. Like I said, whenever she has cause to interact with Eddie, her first reaction to anything he does is always anger. From reading between the lines, I think that's how she eventually learnt to deal with him and his abusive behaviour. In fact, this is how she usually reacts to everything, if she feels threatened in any way at all. At first, she behaved that very same way with me, and when she was sure I was no longer a threat, her way of dealing with me changed completely. I can't exactly say I blame her, because I've behaved in a similar way myself over the years, for almost the same reasons.

"Catherine? You okay?"

"Huh?" she looks up at me, face pale and eyes cloudy.

"I asked if you were okay, sweetheart."

"Not really, but it's nothing that torturing Eddie wouldn't solve," she says through clenched teeth. "Every time I think I'm free of him…"

She doesn't need to say it. Every time she thinks she's free of him, the bastard shows up again. I can sympathise with her because I'm beginning to realise what a nuisance he really is, and that's putting it mildly.

Grissom clears his throat, and begins polishing his glasses on the hem of his shirt. "I can no longer allow you to work on this case, Catherine. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to re-assign you."

"I know," she runs her fingers through her hair, with a shaky hand, "I understand, it's a conflict of interest."

"I think you better re-assign me too," I say quietly, my mouth becoming dry, as I feel my heartbeat speed up a little further.

Her head jerks up sharply, her eyes boring into me. "Why?"

Grissom's polishing noticeably speeds up, as he awaits my response. I don't know what the hell he's nervous for, I'm the one in the firing line.

"Sara, if you don't want to work the case, then just say so!" she says in a clipped tone, several moments later, when I still haven't spoken.

I take this as a bad sign. A huge one, with giant flashing arrows pointing to numerous warnings along the lines of telling me that I'm completely fucked. I wonder if I should kiss my ass goodbye while I still have the chance? At the moment, I can't quite work out why she's pissed off at me. I haven't actually confessed to anything yet, so if she's mad at me now then I can only assume she'll be positively lived when she does find out.

Time to bite the bullet, Sidle; you always knew it was coming. "I really can't be anywhere near Eddie."

"I understand," she says, her tone much softer, because she realised she's taking things out on me. "I don't think I would want to be either, if I was in your position,"

"For one, it's not ethical. You and I are having a relationship, and he's still married to you," I ramble on, skirting around the subject, because even though I was confident I had made the right decision; I am sure of it no longer.

"I'm barely married to the bastard, I filed for divorce," she says evenly, with a shudder. "I prefer to think of it as being in transition to a much better place."

If there situation were any different, her tone of voice, and the expression on her face would be comical. A persistent iciness chips away at the pit of my stomach, and nausea causes my mouth to water almost painfully. I cross my arms, in the hopes that the feeling will pass, but deep down, I already know that it won't.

"I get the feeling there's more to it. Tell me what's going on, Sara," she says pointedly, in such a way that tells me it would be wise to fess up right now, or she'll spend hours wearing me down until I tell her anyway.

"I can't carry on with the investigation, because Eddie confronted me over our relationship," there, I said it. But somehow, I don't think she fully understands the gravity of my statement, because she doesn't look surprised. More like resigned, like she already knew and I know that isn't possible.

"When did this happen?" Grissom asks in a puzzled tone.

"It happened a few weeks back," Catherine begins to explain. "It was the night Sara and I first made love, and he just walked into the house and caught us on the sofa. Needless to say, he wasn't exactly happy about it.

"Oh," Grissom's ears burn bright red, just like I know mine will be.

Catherine on the other hand, doesn't seem to be bothered by it in the slightest, and has the same defiant look she wears whenever she talks about us, as if telling the world they can go to hell if they don't agree with it. It's just one of the things I love about her, and I do love her; so much so that I could swear some days, my head will explode with the sheer intensity of it all.

"No, he actually threatened me that same night," I reply, and proceed to tell her exactly what he did say. "It happened again last night, just after Lindsey's party. Only this time, I really think he meant business."

"What happened?" she asks, her eyes trained on me, her expression difficult to read.

I take a deep breath as the room spins slightly, and attempt to speak but nothing comes out. I swallow heavily, the nausea threatening to overwhelm me. She waits patiently, because right now she's worried about me, and I'm all too aware that her viewpoint will change when she finds out. If I'm lucky, I'll still be alive in ten minutes from now. Beyond that, I don't hold out much hope.

"He told me that he wanted me to end things between us, and if I didn't, he would file for custody of Lindsey. When I told him to get screwed, he upped the ante, telling me I had three days to end it, and if I breathed one word of it to you, he'd just go ahead and snatch Lindsey anyway. He said that I wouldn't know where, or when, because he wanted his family back and I was standing in his way."

I don't know what kind of response I thought I'd get, I hadn't even tried to imagine it, because I couldn't bring myself to. Several minutes pass by in complete silence, and I know then, that I've made the biggest mistake of my life. When she looks up at me again, the earlier fury has disappeared, and I can see the look of sheer devastation in her eyes, that I know isn't just linked to her fears about Lindsey. I've hurt her deeply. I'd have to be blind not to see it, her body language practically yelling just how badly I've fucked up. She draws her arms around herself, as if to keep the world, and me in particular, at bay.

"How could you do that to me?" she asks, her voice laced with hurt, her entire body seeming to shrink back in an instant. "How could you keep it from me?"

"I didn't want to worry you, I tried to find a way to fix things, because I know how much losing Lindsey frightens you. I tried telling you tonight, but David showed up, and then I tried again but Grissom called," it's lame, completely pathetic, but it's the complete truth.

The icy sensation in the pit of my stomach spreads through my entire body, as my vision seems to tunnel and the world spins around me, feeling as if I'm steadily being drawn backwards into a strong vacuum. I think perhaps, subconsciously, I expected her to fly off the handle because this concerns Lindsey. That we'd have a huge argument, both of us trying to shout over the other as we normally did when engaged in verbal combat. But apart from the look on her face, and the desolate tone in her voice, she hasn't reacted. I'm used to the woman who stands her ground, and forcefully speaks her mind. But I have no blueprint for what I see in front of me, because this isn't about work, and I don't know what the hell to do about it because she's never reacted to me this way before. My gut feeling tells me that I'm right to panic, because pretty soon I'm sure she'll throw her walls up, if she hasn't already, to keep me firmly locked out.

"I trusted you, I believed in you. I thought you loved me," she says quietly.

I breathe deeply, willing myself to try and keep calm. "I do love you, which is exactly why I didn't tell you when it happened. I really believed he was jerking around, because he was drunk. I was worried about you, I know you've been under a lot of stress lately, and I didn't want to upset you more than you already were."

"And look how that worked out!" she shouts, startling both herself, and Grissom and I with the sudden change in volume.

For a split second, relief washes over me because that's how she would normally react. Until I realise there's no fire behind her eyes, like there usually is.

"At the time, I had two options. I could tell you, and risk making you ill, which if you carry on the way you have been sweetheart, you'll be heading for a breakdown and I don't want that. My second option, was to think of a way around what he was threatening to do, and ensure that I didn't have hurt your or Lindsey by telling you about his twisted little games. I might have been wrong in choosing not to tell you, but I had my reasons," I'm trying so hard not get angry, but I'm frustrated that I can't seem to get her to understand why I did it.

"Wrong. You had one option, and that was to tell me," her voice this time is steady, but I can tell by just a glance that inwardly, she's anything but. "The fact that you didn't, means I can't trust you. Especially where my daughter is concerned."

Fuck, that hurt. It was intended to, she's trying to hurt me as much as I hurt her, and in her position, I'd probably be feeling exactly the same. The need for trust and honesty is something she and I both value greatly, and we promised we'd always be on the level with each other. This, in her eyes, is probably an unforgivable violation of her trust.

I feel my temper beginning to rise, but it's myself I'm angry with. "Tell you what, Catherine. I'll quit eating, quit sleeping, and spend my time lying in bed at night crying when I think you're asleep. I'll keep watching Lindsey like I'm afraid she'll disappear into thin air, and I'll make a point of going through it all alone. I won't mention it to you, and when you ask, I'll refuse to speak about it and push you away until you get so worried that you're not quite sure what the hell to do anymore. Maybe then you'll see things from my point of view," I say, and she opens her mouth as if to refute it, but swiftly closes it again because she knows what I'm saying is true.

Grissom looks as if he's trying to fade into the background, and I really don't blame him.

I lean against the edge of Grissom's desk and carry on. "I'll readily admit I should have told you sooner, completely bad judgment on my part, but don't for one minute think that I did it for any reason other than wanting the best for you and Lindsey. I just wanted to protect you both. You can hate me, you can bitch me out until my ears bleed, but please don't question my love for either of you, because I haven't just spent the last 24 hours, worrying myself sick and being just about as scared as I've ever been, only to have you think that I've betrayed you, and that I don't care."

She looks momentarily stunned, not used to me speaking quite so frankly, especially not in front of others. Grissom looks at Catherine, and then back at me, and I think he and I both know what's coming next.

"We're over," Catherine says, as predicted, and the walls rapidly start going up around her. "I told you what would happen if you ever lied to me. I told you there'd be no second chances, and I meant it."

I don't think I've ever really felt pain like it, and believe me I've had some painful times in my life, but this has got to be the absolute worst. But my pain isn't for myself, it's for Catherine and I doubt she'd believe me, but to see her hurting like that is killing me slowly. Ordinarily, I'd step back and give her time, knowing she lashes out when she feels threatened as I've said in the past, but right now, I think it's so much more than that. I shouldn't be surprised, I know she's been badly treated in the past, so I should have had the sense to realise she'd react this way.

"I understand," I tell her softly, desperately trying not to cry. "I'm really sorry that I've hurt you, I never meant to."

"Now come on you two," Grissom says sternly. "You're stronger than this, you love each other and you shouldn't let Eddie stand in the…"

The door slams before he has chance to finish his sentence. The force rattles the numerous glass jars on his shelves; right around the same time my heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Great Sidle, just great. You've gone and broken Catherine's heart, and destroyed the only good thing ever to happen to you in the process. The worst part? It could all have been prevented.

***

I've lost count of how many cigarettes I've smoked in the last hour, but I know it's too many. That doesn't stop me from flicking the remnants of one away, and immediately lighting another one. The cool night air washes over my skin, chilling me further and making me feel even more desolate than I already did. I'm desperate for a beer, but at the same time, I don't want one, because I know that it won't help. The problem will still be there in the morning, I know that from experience. But even though I know I won't give into the urge to step into the nearest bar, the lure of being so drunk that I won't even remember my own name is an attractive prospect.

Not exactly responsible and not exactly grown up either, but as I've frequently discovered, I'm no good with emotional pain. Physical pain, I've had more than my fair share of, and I learnt to block it out at an early age. Hurt me emotionally, however, and suddenly I'm on the floor in a useless heap dribbling like an infant. That's precisely the reason I'd never opened myself up to being hurt again, after the first time it'd happened. But this time I was with Catherine Willows, and making myself emotionally unavailable to her would be like buying a Harley Davidson, and putting stabilizers on the fucking thing. If I hadn't let go and given it my all, I'd have missed out on a once in a lifetime opportunity. And believe me, although it ended badly for us both, I know I'll never forget a single second of it. I know I'll always love her.

I've even managed to shock myself this time, with the sheer extent of my stupidity. Catherine trusted me with her heart, and I think I can safely say that I broke it. Just as importantly, if not more so, she trusted me to be a part of her daughter's life and I screwed that up too. No wonder she doesn't want me anymore. I have grave doubts about her ever changing her mind about us, her words brought a kind of cold finality to the whole thing, and I think the most I can ever hope for now is going back to the way things used to be between us. But even that's better than nothing, because selfishly, I don't want a life that doesn't have her in it in some capacity. Still, whining isn't going to solve it, so right now, I'll settle for hating myself with a dedication I've only so far used on Ecklie. Nothing short of total self flagellation would make me feel any better, although to be honest, that's probably a little too kinky even for me. I suspect Catherine would enjoy administering it far more than I would. I'd settle just for kicking my own ass, if only I could bend that way.

"Sara?"

"What is it, Griss?" I ask, turning to see Grissom standing to one side of me.

He must have come out the side entrance, sneaky bastard. It almost makes me smile.

"I've assigned Warrick to the case, but you're primary."

I sigh heavily, not only is he like a dog with a bone, but he's also completely clueless. Catherine has just left me, and the man responsible for it all is lucky he's going to be behind bars soon because if he wasn't, I might just have found him by now and jammed the barrel of my service weapon up his ass. So what part of the equation made him think that this was a good idea?

"Grissom, I can't take this on. Eddie hates my guts, and even though there's no conflict of interest anymore, I'd hate for him to walk just because the defence attorney would dig this up, and use it to get him off."

"That's why you've got Warrick working with you," he grins, blinking at me in the gloom.

Okay, he really is a sneaky bastard. This time, despite myself, I do smile.

"If Catherine knew you really could play office politics, she'd go grey overnight."

"I'm doing no such thing," he tries to look innocent. "Besides, Catherine is much better at all of this than I'll ever be; this is just a precautionary measure."

"So you figure that after my rocky start with Warrick, defence counsel won't call my motives or credibility into question because of my past history with him?"

"That's my reasoning," he nods.

However, things aren't that simple, and I'm pretty sure he knows it. Not that I would ever fake evidence, but if I was going to do it, I sure as hell wouldn't want an audience, so it wouldn't make a difference whether Warrick was working with me or not.

"But Warrick and I are friends now," I answer, and resist pointing out the other holes in his plan.

"When did that happen?" he grins again, trying and failing to look surprised on purpose. "My my, I'm sure none of us knew."

"You forgot one huge glaring fact here, Superman. Catherine is also friends with Warrick, they're pretty close, actually."

"Is she indeed? I guess I need to talk to my colleagues more," he shakes his head dramatically.

"Alright, point taken, but you know what? You're right, you really should leave all of this to Catherine," I smile, as he pretends to glare at me. "So, just do my job and act dumb, huh?"

"Works for a lot of people. In fact, that's Ecklie's standard operating procedure," he laughs, and I marvel at how much he really has changed over the past couple of months.

"What happens if something goes wrong?"

"You know your problem? You worry too much. We'll deal with things as they come, just like we always have done, okay? We're a family, families help each other out," he gives me an awkward smile, because he's not the kind of person to make physical contact in order to comfort somebody, but his words sometimes do the trick on their own.

"What does Catherine say about this?" I take another drag of my cigarette, and blow it out slowly.

"She's quiet on the subject. But she loves you, you know."

"She did, I don't think she does now."

"She does. She just told me she does, but she's hurting. She trusted you and she feels betrayed," he replies as my heart flips in response to his words.

"That wasn't my intention," I sigh loudly; beginning to sound like a broken record as tears threaten, stinging the back of my eyes painfully.

"I know that, and so does she, but right now she's irrational, you both are. Just give it a few days, and she'll come around, she always does."

"By then, it could be too late," I say halfheartedly, knowing I'd wait an eternity for her if I had to.

"We both know that's not true," he says softly. "But until then, if anybody asks me, I can say yes you two did break up. I just won't mention when you're back together."

"You seem confident she'll take me back," I shake my head at him, and inhale another lungful of smoke. "Anybody ever tell you that you're deluded?"

"Anybody ever tell you that you're a pessimist? I have known Catherine a very long time; I know the strength of her feelings for you, which incidentally are like nothing I've seen before, not even with Eddie. I know that she'll talk to you when she's ready, she just needs time to process first."

"So, what do I do in the meantime? I've never been in this situation before," I crush my cigarette out, and rub my eyes tiredly. "Do I leave her be, or talk to her, or what?"

I can't believe I'm asking him for relationship advice. I'm beginning to wonder whether some asshole has relocated Nevada to the Bermuda Triangle, and suddenly screwed around with reality as we know it.

"Go talk to her; tell her you're sorry, and that you love her. Then, when you've done that, give her some space."

"Are you insane?" I ask incredulously, even though I did ask. "She could very well flay me alive."

I'd much rather go pull out Eddie's fingernails one by one, first. I'm sick and tired of him popping up every five minutes to screw around with our lives as he sees fit. In my personal opinion, if he's violent enough to hit Catherine, then he's violent enough to commit murder and he deserves to rot in jail. Having said that, I'm aware that I could be the teensiest bit biased, here. I still harbour fantasies about tying the asshole to the hood of my car, and tickling a few brick walls with his kidneys.

"If she doesn't then I will, so just do as you're told," he shakes his head like an exasperated father. "Brass still hasn't found Eddie, so you've got plenty of time to talk to her. When you're done, find Warrick and fill him in on everything. He's only had the basic details from me, so far."

"You make it sound like I'm taking this case on."

"You are," he says flatly. "Catherine needs you to do this for her, trust me."

"What does that mean?" I ask, feeling puzzled. I think he knows more than he'll tell. I hate that.

"You'll find out in time. Now come on, let's hustle!" he claps his hands like a gym teacher, and I square my shoulders as I head into the building, and towards Catherine's office.

***

After several attempts at forcing my legs to move, I'm almost tempted to run in the opposite direction, when I see Warrick exiting Catherine's office further up the corridor. I brace myself for another round of disapproval at my sheer stupidity, but strangely enough, he sends a sympathetic smile in my direction instead. I immediately take this as confirmation that he knows what happened, and yet he doesn't seem to be angry with me. Warrick routinely keeps things close to his chest, and out of all the guys, he's been the quietest on the subject of my relationship with Catherine. But I know he'd speak out in defence of her if he thought it was necessary, and so I come to the conclusion he definitely isn't angry with me. Although he definitely should be.

"Hey girl, how you holding up?" he asks, slipping an arm around my shoulder.

The minute those words leave his lips, my entire body begins to shake, as my tears finally break free. Unusually for me, I welcome the contact and lean into him, finding the sort of comfort I'd always wanted from a big brother, because my own blames me for our childhood and doesn't want anything to do with me. I can honestly say that Warrick's friendship has been one of a very few that I've treasured in my life. I've never told him that though, because I think I'd expire on the spot from sheer embarrassment, at expressing sentiment in front of somebody who isn't Catherine. It took me long enough just to stop blushing, when I said nice things to her.

"I've fucked up 'Rick, and badly."

"Come on, nothing is ever as bad as it seems," he wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into a nearby lab for some privacy.

"It worse than that, I've really hurt her," I say, sobbing into his shoulder. "No matter which way you look at it, I've betrayed her."

"No, you haven't," he rubs soothing circles on my back, as I bury my face further into his neck, my tears flowing faster. "You did what you thought was best, you didn't want her to worry."

"I guess that means she told you everything?" my question is muffled.

"Yeah, she cried it all out, and I told her the same thing I just told you. I also told her she's lucky to have somebody who was willing to worry themselves half to death just to protect her and Lindsey; that a love like you two have only comes around once in a lifetime. Just give it time, honey, she'll come around," the deep timbre of his voice washes over me, bringing warm reassurance with it.

This is where he differs from Grissom. I can rely on Warrick for physical and emotional support; Grissom on the other hand is pushing me into channeling my emotions elsewhere until Catherine is ready to sort things out, so that I don't obsess over everything and make it all worse. Realistically I know that working myself into the ground won't solve things, I can't just switch my emotions off, but it will at least give me a focus so that it will be a little easier to cope.

I pull back a little and wipe my eyes. "I love her so much. And there's Lindsey, god, I can't even begin to tell you how I feel about her, she's such a great kid and I'm completely in awe of her. If I lose them, it will kill me."

"Hey," he puts a finger under my chin, and forces me to look into his warm green eyes. "That won't happen. Catherine loves you too much ever to let you go, and if you're both honest with yourselves, you know it. She does need time to come to terms with things, though. After what Eddie did to her, it should come as no surprise to you that she reacted the way she did."

"I know that…I'd do anything to put it right. She's my life, I can't live without her," I say pathetically, as more tears flow, and I wipe them away halfheartedly. I can't even seem to hide in front of Warrick anymore.

"She knows that, trust me," he leans forward and places a gentle kiss on my forehead, before pulling me in for another hug. "Now come on girl, no more tears 'cause everything is going to be just fine. You know I love you Sara, I love you both, and I'll be here any time you need me."

"I love you too, Warrick," I say croakily, trying hard to stop my tears, and failing miserably in the process.

It takes all of my courage just to raise my hand and knock on Catherine's office door. I hear a faint distracted mumble that I assume is something along the lines of 'come in' and I open the door slowly, almost afraid of what I'll find on the other side. I feel just like I used to feel when we'd have a fight and I'd be the first one to venture into her office, and taking my life into my hands. I'd be nervous, my heart would race and my palms would sweat, and yet I'd never allow her to see that. But right now, I want her to see me, fear and all. I don't want to be closed off to her, I want her to know I'm still here, that I love her just as much as I've said I do all along. But I have no way of knowing whether she'll allow me to try and put things right, or not. This is about so much more than fighting over a case, and it reminds me how new we still are to all of this. Things happened between us at breakneck speed, and just a short while after thinking we'd spend our entire lives together, this goes and happens. It's always been the same with us though, all or nothing, it's never worked any other way.

We've overcome everything else though, and despite what my head keeps telling me, that she'll never want me again, my heart is telling me that we're strong enough to survive this. I begin to wonder if I'll ever have the chance to know her as well as I know myself, and if I'll ever have the chance to hold her again. She glances up, eyes unfocused like she's looking at me but not seeing me. Minutes later, recognition shows in her eyes, and she immediately turns her gaze away, her meaning clear. She seems to be content with the 'out of sight, out of mind' approach. But it quickly becomes apparent that it's not working, as she leans forward with both elbows on the desk, head bowed and hands tangled in long blonde hair as she sighs loudly. She takes a moment or two, and a deep breath as if she's steeling herself, before she slowly looks up at me. My heart breaks all over again, when I see how sore and red her eyes are from crying.

"What do you want?" her tone is cold, her walls firmly in place, and I'm on the wrong side of them.

"To see if you were okay, I'm worried about you," I take a chance in crossing the room, and get down on my knees in front of her. "I also wanted to tell you, that even though you probably don't believe me right now, I love you so much that it hurts. I love Lindsey too, and would never do anything to hurt either of you on purpose."

She turns away from me, and lays her head on her arms, swallowing heavily as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

"I should probably go," I don't want to push my luck, I was here to tell her how much I love her and then give her some space.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" my heart thumps uncomfortably, wondering what's coming next.

"Did you mean it?" she asks, sitting up straight again.

"About loving you?" I ask.

She nods, and bites her lip as her eyes glass over with tears.

"Always, and forever. I'll love you for the rest of my life."

I now understand what Warrick was trying to tell me, she's struggling with her feelings for me, the fact that I lied by omission, and just about everything because she doesn't know what to do about it. She's been hurt before, and probably desperately hoped I'd be the last person to do it again.

"Where do we go from here?" she asks, focusing on the wall, so she doesn't have to give me her eyes because she's vulnerable and having difficulty in hiding it.

"That's your choice, Cath. I want to be with you, to sort things if we can, but I can't force you to be with me if you don't want to be. If you really meant what you said about us being finished, then I won't blame you for it."

"I don't even know where to start," she rubs her face, and cradles her head in her hands.

My heart sinks, by now I'd expected some sort of reaction, I expected her to come out of her corner fighting. But she's still the same as she was before, almost like she's shell-shocked and doesn't know what's going on around her. I knew I'd hurt her deeply, but this is something else. I have no words for this. None at all.

"I want to fix it, in fact right now, I want to hold you and make the pain go away," my voice cracks, as she looks up at me. "But I know you won't allow me to do that. I have to give you the time and the space that you need to sort out how you're feeling. I'll always be here for you, and I'll respect any decision you make."

I step away, fighting the urge to cry, steeling myself for what I have to do. Maybe Grissom is right, maybe I have to take this case on, maybe she needs me to. Hell, maybe I need to. If only to prove to myself that I'm strong enough to do it, and face up to a bully for once. Eddie isn't my father, and I'm stronger now than I was back then.

"Grissom said you were taking Eddie's case on," she says, as I reach the door. "What made you decide to say yes?"

Now it's my turn to be honest with her. "For Lindsey mainly, because I don't want her growing up and feeling like I felt, having a murderer for a parent. If I can find the truth and possibly prevent that, then I will. I'm also doing it for you, because I guess you need closure on a lot of things, and this might help."

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" I turn to face her again, just before I leave the office.

"Be careful," she whispers, before the barriers come down again and I'm firmly shut out once more.

***

After heading to the nearest store and stocking up on cigarettes, I'm just about ready to face things. Quite what it is that I have to face, I'm not certain of, but something tells me I've just signed on for one of the most difficult cases of my career. It's just after 1:30am, and now that Eddie is finally in custody, we need to interview him. Or at least Warrick does. We've decided that for the most part, Warrick will be visible to Eddie, and I'll work the case from behind the scenes. I don't need to antagonise him any more than I have to, and since the mere thought of me breathing annoys him, it would be advisable to keep my distance.

Aside from interviewing Eddie, there isn't much else to do that the moment. We're still waiting for the rest of the tests to come back, and ordinarily, both Warrick and I would prefer to be in full possession of the facts before we went running into an interview, but we both know we don't have that luxury this time. The Sheriff would have our asses on a silver platter if we took too long about it, and both he and the DA, are already screaming loudly that they want this case brought to a swift conclusion. Stiff biccies though, because I have never, and will never, rush an investigation for anyone.

"So, how do you want to play this?" Warrick breaks the silence as I park at PD.

"I have no idea," I sigh loudly and lean forward against the steering wheel. "I don't know much of anything about Eddie, beyond the fact he's a Grade A bastard."

"Got that right," he nods.

"Why did Grissom really want you on this case?" I ask, knowing there's more to it than Grissom let on.

"Aside from the reasons you already know about?" he takes a deep breath, and stares off into the distance, as he considers his answer. "Grissom doesn't trust Eddie, and he wanted me to have your back."

"But if he doesn't trust Eddie, why does he want me working this case at all?"

"He has faith in your abilities, and just like you, he wants to protect Catherine. I assume she's told you all about her past, and there's a lot of stuff she's open about, but there's one or two things she wants kept private. Theoretically, this should have been passed off to dayshift because of her connection to Eddie. Grissom didn't want that."

"It's Eddie that's under scrutiny though."

"Come on, Sara. You cannot be this naïve, girl. During the course of an investigation, we turn up all kinds off stuff, all kinds of information. Who the hell knows what Eddie is caught up in, and the last thing Catherine needs right now is to have her life put under the microscope. Besides, Ecklie would love nothing more than to fire her ass at the moment."

"Due to her relationship with me?"

"That's one reason, it's certainly not something Ecklie likes, or even agrees with, and he's not your biggest fan either. The other reason is because he knows Catherine's smart enough to do his job in her sleep, and she's gonna get that promotion one day. Sure, he kisses ass, but he hasn't got the intelligence to go any further than he already has. Why do you think he's still hanging around?"

"So basically what you're trying to tell me is that this case could be used as the perfect way to play office politics?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, and you know Ecklie never needs a reason, anyway. Grissom figures that this way, although it ain't ideal, he can shield you both. I guess he figured you had enough to deal with, and didn't want to worry you, wanted you to stay focused."

"Smart son of a bitch," I shake my head, just when I think Grissom can't surprise me, he goes and does just that. I guess that's partly what he meant about Catherine needing me to do this for her, I surmise the rest is of a personal nature, and more than likely connected to Eddie.

I think back to earlier on tonight, and the way Ecklie was around Catherine. I'd thought about it in depth at the time, I'd probably have come to the conclusion that he had made it obvious to everyone that he'd lost all respect for her. Not that she ever considered his respect worth having, but she treated him with due deference. This is something else I feel inadequate about, because I never notice these things. I come into work, do everything to the best of my ability and then go home again, job complete. I never saw the need for office politics, figured we were all on the same side and working toward the same goal, although experience has taught me this isn't always true. Now that I think about it, it would be just like Ecklie to use a case like this to further his own ambitions, and clear the decks of competition in the process. And if that's the case, I need to make sure I keep Catherine out of this at all costs.

"Just how bad is Eddie?"

"Bad," he rubs a finger across his temple, and I know he doesn't particularly want to have this conversation.

"Warrick…"

"I really shouldn't be telling you this. Not when you have to deal with his case."

"You know me, 'Rick. No matter how I feel about him, it won't stop me getting to the truth," I reply, and he nods, because he knows it's true.

"Way back when Cath was still living with him, it crossed my mind a few times that something wasn't right. Her movements would be slower some days, or her makeup would be a little heavier. I figured he had to be knocking her around, but when I tried to talk to her about it, she'd quickly change the subject. One night she didn't show up for assignments, and I got worried. When she still hadn't shown up an hour later, I feared the worst and went looking for her. She…" his voice cracks, and he stops talking.

I turn to him as he pauses, realising that the thought still affects him. "If you don't want to carry on, it's okay."

"It's just…every time I think of that night, I think of Catherine doing her best not to pass out from the pain, and Lindsey grabbing tiny fistfuls of my shirt while she cried her little heart out. Lindsey was barely 18 months old at the time, and I found Catherine on the bedroom floor, cradling her and trying to soothe her, to get her to stop crying. Eddie had done a real number on her, split her lip, black eye, few punches to the ribs, and she could barely move. I was worried he'd done some serious damage because she was having trouble breathing, but she wouldn't let me take her to the hospital."

"Bastard," I spit, because although Catherine had told me he was abusive, she'd never actually given me specifics. I understood that, and didn't push because I know how painful it can be to dredge up unwanted memories.

"He was lucky that he'd disappeared, because I was ready to kill the guy with my bare hands. Nancy turned up not long after because Cath hadn't been answering her phone, and hadn't dropped the baby off before work. Anyway, she stayed to take care of Catherine, I helped get her cleaned up, and made sure she was resting comfortably before I left. But I've never forgotten that night; I've never been so scared in my entire life."

"You're a good man, Warrick."

He blushes, and waves me off. "I only did what anyone else would do. But put all of that out of your mind for now, just concentrate on the case."

I light a cigarette and roll the window down, my hands shaking.

"Let me just concentrate on this cigarette for five minutes, because I know why I'm here, I just can't quite get out of the car," I say with a roll of my eyes, as he chuckles in response.

Things are all so jumbled up in my head, and I don't know if it will that easy to concentrate. If I'm honest, I think talking to Catherine earlier on may just have actually made me feel worse, because I'm reminded that this is all too real and there is no miracle cure just waiting to happen. Truth be told, I know exactly why I acted the way I did, and I haven't told Catherine the full reason why. She knows it's because I wanted to protect her, but that's as far as it will go. I hadn't really admitted it to myself before now, and I have a feeling that at some point, she'll want me to elaborate on everything, and it's not a conversation I'm looking forward to. I'm not even sure I'll be able to bring myself to explain it to her if the need ever arises.

Eddie on the other hand is simple, I know I can't stand the man, and I wouldn't have difficulty in telling him, either. If I went on past experience of all his other misdemeanours, he couldn't be any guiltier than if he had a pair of underpants with 'I was the second gunman on the grassy knoll' printed on them. Warrick's story has just made every negative emotion I have towards Eddie increase tenfold. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing; it will probably only make me work harder to get this sorted out. At least for the next couple of days, I know Catherine won't have to worry about Lindsey disappearing, because Eddie is in no position to do anything.

"I think I'm ready now," I say, blowing out my last cloud of smoke, as I steel myself for what lay ahead, feeling as ready as I'll ever be.

"Come on then, girl, lets do this," he bumps fists with me, before we climb out of the truck.

***

I really don't want to have to do this, but I've got no choice now, this is my case and I'm assigned to it, come hell or high water. Besides, I'm here for two very specific reasons, both of whom I love more than life itself and I don't want to fail them. I grit my teeth and smile my thanks at Warrick for holding the door open for me. He ushers me in with a gentle hand, as if he thinks I may just change my mind, and decide to bolt. The minute we step inside, we can tell that the department is just about as chaotic as the lab, probably even more so, as I hear howls and shouts echoing through the hallways from various different directions.

"Hi, I'm Sara Sidle, and this is Warrick Brown. We're with the crime lab. Would you happen to know if Detective Brass is busy?" I ask the tired looking receptionist; it would seem just about everybody in Vegas was doomed to feel fatigue tonight, I know I certainly do.

"He said to tell you that he's back that way," she points over her right shoulder.

"Thanks," I smile at her with an enthusiasm I don't feel, and follow Warrick as he heads toward the cells.

"Damn, sounds like a zoo in here," he remarks, shaking his head.

The noise level increases the closer we get to the cells, sounding as if somebody arrested a truck full of monkeys. I see Jim, standing further up the hallway and leaning against a water cooler, as he knocks back a cup of water as if he wishes it were scotch. Just as I reach him, I see the source of the noise. Several officers are trying to restrain a suspect, and he's not playing ball. He fights them back and forth as if they're rag dolls, and even when another couple of officers join in, they still have a hard time in restraining him. Its nights like this, that I'm thankful I chose being a Criminalist over becoming a cop.

Brass touches me on the shoulder, and smiles. "Hey guys. You working this too, Warrick?"

"Certainly am. Sara's primary, so she's going to be bossing me around for the next few days, how could a guy refuse that?" he says with a laugh, as he wiggles his eyebrows at me.

"Wouldn't let Catherine hear you say that," Brass laughs. "She'd very quickly get acquainted with kicking your ass."

Warrick grimaces in response.

"Got a live wire tonight, huh?" I raise an eyebrow, as I point toward the scuffle in cells.

"That would be _your_ live wire," he says, as I look heavenward, and let loose a few quiet expletives. "Say hello to Eddie."

"Gotta be kidding me." Warrick lightly slaps his thigh, and shakes his head in disbelief.

I know the way he's fighting the officers that drugs are involved, and I resist asking what he's on, knowing that's Warrick's job and I won't interfere. The cops finally get a purchase on him, an officer jamming his knee between Eddie's shoulder blades as they attempt to cuff him. He growls and swears as he thrashes his head and legs back and forth; as they do their best to still him so he doesn't hurt himself. When he finally does settle down, I notice with alarm that he's got a jagged, six inch long deep scratch, starting just below his left eye. Judging by both the colour of his wound, and the way he winces when he blinks, I'm fairly certain it has only just recently happened.

"Did he have that scratch before you arrested him?" I ask Brass, so much for keeping my mouth shut.

"Of course, what kind of outfit you think I'm running here?" he asks, with a grin.

"You're sure he didn't get it in the struggle?" I need to know, need to be sure, because we're going to have to document those injuries.

"I'm sure. He already had it when I picked him up," Brass looks at me strangely; I'm never normally like this. "What's goin' on with you tonight?"

"I'm thinking of Catherine, here. He's been harassing her lately. I just want to be sure everything is being done by the book."

He nods, understanding instantly. "Give him a few more minutes to calm down, and I'll drag him into the interview room."

"Warrick will be conducting the interview. I'll watch from the Obs room, because I really don't think it's wise for Eddie to see me, tonight."

"Good idea, he's not exactly a happy camper," Brass says dryly.

"Did you have a Doctor check him over?" Warrick asks with a frown, looking at both his physical state, and the cut on his face.

"Doc says he's fit to be interviewed, although don't stand too close, his breath is 50 percent proof."

It worried me, I didn't want his attorney to be able to say he was interviewed under the influence of alcohol and drugs, but I couldn't argue because the duty Doctor had okayed it.

"You know what he's taken?"

"I couldn't tell you, Warrick. It's been crazy around here, and I've not had time to speak to the doctor beyond getting confirmation its okay to speak to him," he replies, shooting him an apologetic look.

A few more minutes pass, and then Eddie meekly allows the officers to pull him to his feet. The minute he's upright however, he starts kicking and screaming again, narrowly missing coming into contact with a nearby officer's face. Seeing that he's getting worked up again, Brass immediately orders them to take him back to his cell instead.

Warrick shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Jim, I gotta talk to him, even if it's only for a few minutes. The Sheriff is on Grissom's back already."

"He should try a shift in this place, and then maybe he'd cut us some slack," Brass says wearily.

I follow them both down the corridor, discretely keeping my distance, and watching as Eddie still writhes back and forth like some sort of violent showgirl. The officers struggle to push him the through the door of the nearest interview room, and he's swiftly cuffed to the table, which doesn't please him at all. He spends the next several minutes straining against the cuffs, swearing and shouting loudly. Brass waits until he's calmed down again, and then turns to us.

"Ready Warrick?"

"Yeah, let's do this," he nods. "Anything specific you had in mind when questioning him, Sara?"

"It's your show, Warrick. Besides, your interrogation technique has always been better than mine," I say as he grins at me, before being rudely interrupted by my cell ringing.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Eddie screams, when he suddenly spots me through the doorway after being alerted to my presence by the ringing of the phone.

I look at the display, and shake my head; Grissom certainly picks his times to call. "Hey Griss, look can I call you back? Yeah see you later."

I click the phone shut, and look up to see Eddie leaning across the table as much as the cuffs will allow, giving him a better view of the corridor, and me along with it. His eyes are full of hatred as he begins throwing obscenities at me through the door.

"Shouldn't you be at home stealing my daughter, and fucking my wife?! Just you wait, when I get out of these goddamn cuffs, you're in trouble you bitch!" he snarls.

"HEY! Zip it, Willows, before I have you Tasered!" Brass threatens

"I want to see, Catherine! Get Catherine here right now, I want my wife!" Eddie continues to scream.

"Observation room," Warrick gestures to one side with his head, patting me on the shoulder, before he follows Brass into the interview room.

I close the door behind me, taking a moment or two to calm down. I hate to admit it but he's managed to scare me. It's just something about the look in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine, there's something cold, calculating and menacing about that look. I try not to think about Catherine being in that situation, because the minute I allow myself to visualise the fear she must have felt when faced with him, I'll lose my temper completely and end up decking him.

When I feel a little calmer, I lean against the wall and watch Warrick deliberately take his time in getting ready, letting Eddie stew for a while. Eddie is watching him, with more than a little hostility. He knows exactly who Warrick is, doesn't seem to like the fact he's there, doesn't seem to like anyone who has a connection to Catherine. The horrible feeling that all of this will get worse before it gets better, seeps into my brain and sticks there.

"What are you here for?" he asks at last, his eyes coolly resting on Warrick.

"I'm assigned to working your case," Warrick clears his throat and begins putting gloves on. "My name is Warrick Brown."

"Oh I know who you are," Eddie says, eyes glittering coldly. "I don't suppose you're fucking Catherine too, huh? Everyone else around here is."

Brass pushes off of the wall from where he's thus far been leaning watching the proceedings, and reprimands him. "Watch your mouth, Willows."

"What day of the week do you get to fuck Catherine on?" he smirks at Brass, who knows better than to react to him, even though he'd love nothing more than to shut him up.

I have to hand it to him, he certainly knows how to rile people. He hasn't underestimated everyone's loyalty around here to Catherine, and he's using it to his advantage in order to piss everyone off. Quite why that is, I don't know, but I do know that if I was in his position, I wouldn't be playing games at all. Unless…no it's a stupid thought and I dismiss it. But still, it niggles at me. Surely he knows how much trouble he's in? How could he not?

"Before we get started, I'm going to explain the procedure so that…" Warrick starts off but Eddie interrupts him.

"Can we just get this fucking over with?!" Eddie snarls. "Ask me your goddamn questions, do your fucking tests, and let me go the fuck home! And I want these cuffs off!"

I'm pretty sure I'm justified in feeling that something isn't right. He seems cocky and angry, rather than nervous. I knew Eddie was a slippery son of a bitch, but I'd defy anyone to have murdered a slime ball like Scolari, and still remain calm after the fact, even more so when in police custody. Why do I hear alarm bells in my head here?

"Not so fast. Are we're clear on the fact that you're co-operating with us, and you've waived your right to a lawyer, correct?" Brass asks, as he unlocks the cuffs.

"Yeah," Eddie grunts.

"We need your clothes, gotta do some tests, take some pictures too. That okay with you?" Brass asks sarcastically.

"Yes, yes, fucking yes!" Eddie rolls his eyes, and begins scratching his skin, the minute his hands are free.

"Eddie, did you take something tonight?" Warrick asks.

My money is on coke, he looks like he's got little imaginary bugs crawling all under his skin.

"Coke, and a few drinks," he shrugs, going back to scratching his rapidly reddening skin.

"Where'd you pick him up?" Warrick directs his question at Brass this time.

"Sapphire, on Industrial Road. Looks like he'd been there a while," Brass says, referring to the world famous strip club.

"Must have cost him some serious dough, Sapphire is anything but cheap," Warrick says as Brass nods in agreement. "Do you know what time he got there?"

"Not yet, I haven't had chance to interview anybody at length. Just took names and numbers."

"Hey! I'm still fucking here you know!" he shouts. "I might have had a drink, and a snort or two, but I'm not brain-dead!"

Sure about that, asshole? If not, I could soon rectify the situation.

"Right," Warrick sorts his kit out. "Let's get him checked over, and photograph his face. I need his clothes, shoes too."

Brass nods as he puts gloves on and helps him check Eddie over, making sure he sits still while he photographs him. Aside from the scratch on his face, I see no other injuries on him, especially none on his forearms and hands, which I'd expect if there was a struggle of any kind. It doesn't look like that's the case though. Aside from his face, both he and Scolari are largely injury free. This kicks up another few questions I don't have answers to.

I watch as Warrick uses an adhesive disc on his hands to collect any possible GSR residue that may be there, scrapes under his fingernails, before Brass helps Eddie get undressed. He helps him put on him a pair of orange overalls, as Warrick shoves his clothes, shoes, and other belongings into an evidence bag and then labels them. When the evidence is stowed away, Warrick turns his attention back to the interrogation.

"Where were you earlier on tonight, about 7pm?"

"How the hell should I know?" he looks at him as if he's stupid.

"It's a simple question, and it's really important that you try to remember."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Alright listen up Eddie, you got two choices: you either co-operate and let me help you, or I'll pass this case off to somebody who gives even less of a rat's ass than I do. And believe me, I'd be more than happy to do that, so which is it?" Warrick asks, his annoyance getting the better of him, and I realise how much Eddie must be getting under his skin because I've never seen him react like that before.

Better him than me, I'd probably jump on the son of a bitch and chew his ears off, before choking him with them.

"Hey, the guy asked you a question," Brass says sternly. "At least have the decency to answer him."

Eddie remains silent, content with glowering at them, instead.

"Don't start screwing us around…" Brass warns him. "You got one last chance to tell me, before I leave you locked up here all night.

Not that it matters because even if he does talk, he'll still be locked up here all night. Ain't life a bitch? Before I hear his reply, the sound of my cell ringing cuts through the air.

"Sidle."

"Hi, Sara, it's Wendy. Look, I wasn't so sure if I should call you about this but…" she hesitates, and I immediately get the sensation of more ice crystals forming in my stomach.

"What's going on?"

"I ran the DNA test on the fingernail scrapings from the Scolari case. CODIS threw me a match."

"And the problem is?"

"It's Eddie Willows," she says, sounding uncomfortable. "I probably should have called Catherine, instead of leaving you to tell her, but I figured she'd take it a lot better coming from you."

Oh fuck a duck. Why is my life never simple? If I thought the scratch was suspicious before, coupled with the test results, it's now speaking to me in volumes. Grissom's voice floats through my head, lecturing me with one of his little quotes. Holy Trinity: Victim, Suspect, and Crime Scene. All three have to be connected, and right now, I'm not feeling it, even though it sure as hell looks like it.

I still have that funny feeling coursing through my veins. I could feel it chipping away at me at Scolari's scene, but I don't think I gave much credence to it until Catherine voiced her own suspicions. I don't know which way to turn, the one person who always seems to know what to do isn't here, and I miss her so much that it's an unstoppable physical ache.

"Catherine is aware of the situation, and she's no longer assigned to this case," I sigh heavily, the realisation finally hitting me that any hope I had of this being some sort of surreal mistake is well and truly dead, just like Scolari. "Warrick has been assigned in her place."

"Okay, well that's good. I guess that's sorted," she sounds happy enough, knowing that she isn't going to get her head bitten off tonight.

"Thanks for calling me, Wendy. Either Warrick or I will be by the lab at some point to see what you got, I just don't know when," I reply, and a few seconds later, flip the phone shut as an immediate craving for more nicotine washes over me.

Sometimes, I really despair of this job. I should have stuck with theoretical physics. But Quarks don't hold the same interest for me as Catherine does. You can't make a Quark giggle, take it out to dinner, or even play tonsil hockey with it. I suspect if you could, a lot more physicists would spend even longer in their labs than they do now. Having said that, I always knew I could never live in a test tube, and living life means experiencing pain, especially when you're stupid enough to cause it. It's a wonder Catherine hasn't done me in, yet.

My life is going to hell in a hand-basket. As a matter of fact, my life is going to hell in quite a few hand-baskets. In fact, I think I've got so many hand-baskets; it's more like a stretch-hand-basket, and I wonder who's had to do without a hand-basket just for me to have more than my fair share? I guess there'd be people who wouldn't need 'em, nuns and suchlike. God here we go again, insanity is well and truly kicking in this time. And the worst part? Ranting doesn't change a goddamn thing.

It's just feels as if all the fun and happiness is leeched out of our lives the minute Eddie even comes near us. I'm beginning to feel like I used to, where the only peace of mind for me would be tacked to the end of my latest quest for justice, which all too soon would be over and I'd be chasing the next conviction. But I do have to admit it's quite a bit different this time. Solving cases for people I didn't know was one thing; solving a problem for the woman I love more than anything, not to mention Lindsey, is entirely something else altogether. Botton line is, I can't afford to fail Catherine again; she is relying on me to get to the truth, whether she'd admit it or not.

"Where did you get that scratch on your face?" Warrick's voice jolts me from my thoughts.

"I don't know," Eddie replies, touching it gingerly.

"Did you get it today? It looks recent."

"Are you fucking deaf? I said I don't know!"

"If you carry on like this, you'll end up jail. Do you really want that?" Warrick is fast losing his patience with him.

"Why would you care?" he lifts his head, and turns his attention back to his arms, as he continues scratching.

"Do you remember anything about tonight? Anything at all?" Warrick tries again, attempting to keep his voice level, and not show any of his frustration, because he cares about Catherine and Lindsey too.

He shrugs. "Not really. I want to see Catherine."

"You can't. While you're here, you've got access to three people. Detective Brass, a lawyer, and yours truly. That's as far as it goes," he says, remembering not to mention me. "Keep this up, and the only place you're going is jail."

"I know my rights, and unless I get to see Catherine, I'm not going to say another fucking word."

"Eddie…" Warrick's jaw bunches.

"Time's ticking," he grins at Warrick, and then turns toward the glass, looking pointedly in my direction as if he can see me.

His meaning is clear. He knows I'm watching, and he's hoping to rattle me, but right now there really isn't much he can do. The only way he'd get out of PD at the moment is on a bus to the State Pen. He then throws his head back as he begins to laugh, and I would deny it till my last breath but it unnerves me, and causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up, as a ribbon of white hot anger flows through my body.

For the second time tonight, he's caused me to feel a sliver of the fear that Catherine must have felt when confronted with him, and the urge to wipe the smirk off of his face is almost more than I can bear. Not that I can afford to do that, it would be playing right into his hands, not to mention that it would get me into serious trouble. I watch as Brass scowls at him, and then ushers Warrick from the room knowing they won't get any more out of him tonight. I flex my fingers, and take a few calming breaths before I open the door, and come to stand beside Warrick.

I stand mutely, as he rifles around in his kit, and hands Jim a plastic container. "Will you get a sample of his urine for me, please?"

"I certainly can, hang on a sec while I grab a couple of officers," he replies before walking away briskly.

I lean against the wall and close my eyes, wishing for even just the smallest amount of sleep as I feel fatigue seep through me. I wouldn't normally be quite this tired, but with everything that's happened and the amount of cases I've had, I'm completely wiped out. I wouldn't be able to sleep, even if I tried though, I'd be too busy thinking about Catherine. Warrick watches me with concern, knowing I'm anything but okay, and yet he reads me well enough to know that any attempt to comfort me at the moment might just open the flood gates, and I'd be useless to everyone if that happened, because I'd completely shut down. He knows I spoke to her, and he knows I'm scared, he can see it in my eyes, but he doesn't push me to talk about it, knowing that I probably will when I'm ready.

Brass is soon back, the container safely stored in a sealed plastic bag. "Can't say he was too happy, but he co-operated in the end."

"Thanks, man," Warrick takes it from him, and tucks it into his case, and then we begin walking toward the entrance.

"Autopsy results in yet?" Jim asks, as he holds the door open for us.

"Not yet," I look at my watch, and take another deep breath in an attempt to calm my heart rate. "The Doc reckons he should be able to get around to it soon, but the morgue is just as crazy as the rest of the city, and we've had to wait. I'll be glad when tonight is over."

"I'll wait for you in the truck," Warrick smiles, then nods at Jim. "Later, Brass."

"See ya, Warrick," he pats him on the back as he leaves.

"I won't be long," I call after him, and then turn back to Jim.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" he asks, a hand resting on my arm.

"Yeah, he just…" I take a deep breath, but can't find the words to express myself.

"Really gets under your skin," he finishes off for me as I nod. "I know it ain't easy, but ignore him. Catherine worships the ground you walk on, and it's you she wants, not Eddie. I've known her for a long time, and she's not the kind of person to jerk around, you got nothing to worry about."

I look fondly at him, and would have been glad of the reassurance if we'd still been a couple, but that sad fact is, we're not. "You're in the wrong job, Jim."

"Don't I know it! I could be in some plush office somewhere, charging assholes like him 300 bucks an hour just to tell him he ain't right in the head," he chuckles. "She called me, you know."

"Who, Catherine?" I ask, trying to my surprise in check.

"Yeah, just before you got here. She told me to, and I quote, 'keep an eye on the bastard, where Sara is concerned.'"

"She said that?" I'm a little shocked, although I shouldn't be. She's told me often enough how much she cares about me, and there was still some evidence of that tonight, even though she wasn't really speaking to me.

"She did. Any idiot can see how much she loves you. Including the one she's trying to divorce, which would explain why he's so bitter," he grins at me again, when I smile in response to his words.

Everyone keeps saying that, keeps telling me how much she loves me and I desperately want to believe them, to believe it's still true. All I really want is for her to tell me she still loves me, for her to tell me that she still needs me, because I ache so much for her that I can't focus on much of anything. But I'm aware that I don't deserve that, not after what I did.

"I'm beginning to like you," I joke with him, and lean across, softly kissing him on the cheek. "We'll be back to talk to him when he's had time to sleep it off."

"Sure thing, call me any time, 'cause I can't see me getting out here until I'm retired. Got a whole bunch of stuff to work on," he sighs tiredly and rubs his face.

"I know the feeling," I smile sympathetically. "Thanks."

"No problem, Sara. Take it easy," he replies as I reach the Tahoe and climb in.

"You too Jim, catch you later," I give him a weak smile, before Warrick pulls out of the parking lot, and heads back in the direction of the lab.

***

By the time we get back to the lab, I've worked myself up into such a state, that the next person to piss me off will get a complimentary boot up the ass, followed by my fist down their throat so that the two can conveniently meet half way while I shake them stupid. I didn't even bother to get out of the truck to smoke, just wound the window down again. It was kind of rude not to ask Warrick, but he didn't complain and with me being on the verge of a psychotic rampage, he probably figured it was best to keep his mouth shut.

My first port of call is the break room, I need time to calm down and I figure coffee wouldn't go amiss either, because I can't feel any worse than I already do. I feel slightly guilty that my first stop wasn't to drop the evidence off, but I have to chill first or I'll end up eating a lab tech or two if they piss me off. I instantly decide it was definitely the wrong thing to do when I see Catherine sitting with Nick and Greg, working their way through stacks of paperwork. At least everyone else is busy somewhere, unlike earlier on tonight when you couldn't hear yourself think.

The minute I enter the room, I feel her eyes come to rest on me, but I don't dare look at her. "Hey Cath, hey guys."

There are mumbled hello's and I set my bags down on a nearby counter, before I pour out some coffee and attempt to act as normal as I possibly can. I realise just how shaky my hands are as I try to hold Warrick's cup steady enough to fill it. This is ridiculous; I shouldn't let him affect me like this. I'm almost tempted to laugh out loud when I realise the only other person who could rattle me like that, used to be Catherine, although admittedly for different reasons.

Warrick smiles his thanks as I hand him his cup, and then jerks his head towards the door in a gesture that only Nick and Greg are meant to see. They immediately take the hint, and quietly leave the room, but Catherine doesn't seem to notice they've gone.

"You've just seen Eddie," Catherine says from behind me.

I turn to look at her, her pen poised over the paperwork in front of her. "What gave you that idea?"

"The homicidal look on your face. I wore that same look for most of the twenty years I've known him," her eyes bore into me, probing places I don't want her to see because she has enough to deal with.

"Bastard is lucky he's still breathing," I can't help myself from saying, before I take a sip of my coffee and grimace because it's thick and bitter.

I tip it down the sink and retrieve a bottle of water instead, downing half of it in one go so I can avoid looking at her a little longer.

"What's he done?" she asks, with a sigh.

"Really, it's nothing," at least she'll have to be content with that explanation, because I'm not telling her exactly what he did say.

"It doesn't look like nothing," she says, her expression guarded, but not quite as much as before. This causes me to wonder if anything I said to her earlier made a difference, and I decide that something must have, because she's looking at me a little differently.

"He didn't do anything; he just gets under my skin."

"He's good at that, but you have to ignore him at all costs, because he'll do or say anything he can to rattle you," she says softly, and I know I've just been given a warning, as well as an indication that she's worried about me.

"Thanks, I'll try not to let that happen, I promise. Look Cath, I really need to get this stuff to the labs; but I'll see you later if you're still here."

She bites down on her lip, and for a second, looks to be debating her answer. "I probably will be…things might be difficult right now but…"

"But what, honey?" I say softly as she falters.

"I wouldn't clock out without telling you," she says, the hard icy edge to her tone back because of my reaction to her. She's making it plain she's pushing me away again, that she doesn't want my affection right now, even if she's willing to talk to me.

"I know, I'll see you later," my voice cracks, pain flooding through me because I'd stupidly allowed myself to believe we were getting somewhere, and now I realise we're right back to the beginning all over again.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** The characters aren't mine, they belong to CBS, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter 23**

I look at my watch for the third time in less than five minutes, and wonder how much longer Warrick is going to be, after telling me almost twenty minutes ago that he was nearby. It's a little after 4am, and I'd admit to Scolari's murder myself if there was a hot shower and a comfortable bed at the end of it. Having said that, I wasn't all that eager to go home, and by home I mean Catherine's house. I'm not even sure I'll be able to call it home much longer. I mean she broke up with me a not even a full 48 hours after she asked me to move in, and I'm convinced that's some kind of record, even for me. I suppose I entertained the slightest faint hope at one point that she and I would work through our differences. I'm not so sure now, not after the fight we had less than an hour ago.

It was as if I couldn't seem to let Warrick's words go, and I had really wanted to see Catherine, feeling as if that would somehow exorcise them. I could see visions of her lying injured on the floor, and cradling a tearful Lindsey, and I didn't know what to do about it. I wanted to touch her, to hold her, to prove to myself that she was real and she came through it. And yet I ended up doing the one thing I've always done perfectly well; get angry and push her further away, and make things worse in the process. I wasn't equipped for dealing with this. The feeling inside me is something I can't describe, much less comprehend, and I didn't have the first idea of what I should do or say. And then I did something else I'm good at. I ran. Admittedly, I didn't run very far, but that's not the issue.

A nearby waitress makes a beeline for me, and refills my cup, chirpily asking if I'd like to order anything else. I decline. I had been reasonably sure I wasn't hungry, and the minute I had stepped into the diner, I was absolutely sure. The smell of food had hit my nostrils, and my stomach flopped uncomfortably, and I knew then I wouldn't be eating anything any time soon. I take hold of my paperwork, my eyes traveling over the page again but I know that no matter how many times I read it, the outcome will still be the same. Catherine will still have lied to me, and I will still have no idea what to do about it. I'm sensing a pattern here, and I really should just accept the fact that when it comes to Catherine, I never know what to do. Even less so when lies are involved.

A sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that I deserve it, that I'm getting a taste of my own medicine, and I begin to realise just how awful she must have felt when she first found out that I lied to her. And it certainly was lying; even if it was by omission, and borne out of a need to protect her. A feeling of fatigue unlike any other I've ever known washes over me, and I'm just about to fall face first into my coffee as I hear my name.

"Hey, Sara. Sorry I'm late, took longer than I expected," Warrick greets me cheerfully, and takes a seat.

"It's no problem, I'm not in any rush to get back," I reply with a smile, and take another sip of my coffee, hoping it will keep me awake for a while longer.

"You haven't had a fight with Cath, have you?" he asks, knowing full well that I have, and he should do, the signs by now are familiar.

"You could say that." I nod despondently, the argument still very much at the forefront of my thoughts.

"_I only wanted to know what kind of a state he was in," Catherine snaps, and glares in my direction. "Or is that a secret now, too?" _

_I roll my eyes, because it's like lighting blue touch paper. "He was drunk, and on the wrong side of a coke high, okay? You know, if you're that bothered, why don't you drive over there now and charm your way into PD so you can slip into his cell and hold his hand." _

_She looks taken aback at my words, before a humourless laugh escapes her throat. "You're jealous." _

"_Wouldn't you be? The asshole causes a problem between us, and he still comes out of it smelling like roses." I don't know whether to stand still or pace, so I settle for shifting my weight from foot to foot impatiently. _

"_Not exactly, he's sitting in a cell waiting to be charged with murder. You're not," she replies, knowing that will wind me up even further. _

"_Oh my heart bleeds for the bastard." I begin pacing, annoyed with myself because of the way I'm acting, it really isn't me. "Should I feel guilty now? Like I came into his home, stole his daughter, turned his wife into a lesbian, and usurped his fucking throne! I gotta quit eating newborns for breakfast and get my ass to church, and learn me some Christian compassion!" _

"_What the hell has gotten into you?" she whirls around in her seat, because us fighting is one thing, but she's never seen me this angry before. _

"_Cath, don't. I've had just about all I can stand for one day. All week even. If you want to talk about us, and our issues, fine. I'm more than happy to listen and talk it all through with you. But if you just want to sit here and talk about Eddie, then ask Warrick. It won't bother him as much as it bothers me when you make it obvious you still love the guy." _

_Oh god, that wasn't fair and I really didn't mean that. I know I shouldn't have said that, and a feeling of guilt washes over me. _

"_I don't love Eddie, and I'm not ready to talk yet." she glares at me. "Even less so, when you go making fucking statements like that!"_

"_I'm sorry." I sigh, and lean heavily against the wall. "I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it." _

"_Screw you. If you can't be bothered to talk to me without scoring cheap points, then I'm not gonna waste my time!" _

"_I can't handle this," I say quietly, before striding towards her office door, feeling sorry that I'd even come in the first place. _

"_That's right, run. Just like fucking always!" she snaps, trying to provoke a reaction in me so I'll stay and argue. _

"_Cath, I'll stand still when you stop pushing me away," I reply, desperately trying to keep my voice level because I really don't want to continue to argue with her. "We've been here before, sweetheart, and you still can't tell the difference between me wanting to help and protect you, as opposed to controlling you." _

"_That's in the past, and that's not the issue here!" she growls, but we both know the old problems still plague us, and typically, it's still very much the issue. _

"_Yes it is, at least partially. Catherine, I love you, and you know I do, but I can only get as close as you let me. When you figure out what it is that you want, you know how to find me." I take one last look at her, and close the door quietly behind me. _

"Sara?" Warrick waves his hand in front of my eyes.

"Sorry, what did you say?" I shake myself, and focus on him.

"I asked if you'd managed to find anything out." Warrick asks, as the waitress pours him some coffee, and gives me a refill.

"I found more than I bargained for."

"Can I get you guys anything?" the cheery waitress interrupts, notepad at the ready as she smiles at us.

Warrick rubs his eyes, and gets interested in the menu. "I'll take the Big Breakfast, and gimme a stack of pancakes on the side, please."

"Sure thing sweetness, just love to see a man with a healthy appetite." she makes eyes at him, and then turns to me. "And what about you, honey?"

"I'll stick with coffee, thanks," I reply with a smile, thinking how good it is that some people in this world still find the time for good old-fashioned niceties.

"You got it honey pie, I'll keep the refills comin' and I'll be back with your food in a flash, handsome." she winks at Warrick and bustles off.

"Got yourself a fan," I grin at him, as his eyes meet mine.

"If I wasn't married…" he grins back. "So, what you got?"

He takes hold of the piece of paper that I pass to him and scans down the page. His brow crinkles, as he realises he's reading Eddie's cell phone call logs. I can tell by the way his expression changes, that just like me, he recognizes a few of the numbers. Cath's home number, and her cell being just two of them. But the frequency of their appearance disturbed me. The guy was calling her upwards of five or six times a day, sometimes more, and sometimes with no more than ten minutes between calls. I had known he was calling her. I had witnessed it many times, especially during our trip to San Francisco, but there'd come a point when she'd led me to believe it had all but stopped, and he had switched to calling Lindsey constantly instead.

Not only am I angry with myself for failing to notice, I'm also angry with her for actively concealing it from me. It begs the question of why she felt she had to suddenly hide it when I was aware of his harassment anyway. Still, we're always practically joined at the hip, and I really should have known, I should have noticed she was trying to hide it from me. Why on god's green earth does she make life so difficult for herself? Why does she feel like she has to go through everything alone? I dismiss all other thoughts of a sinister explanation, because the minute I start thinking like that is the minute I should give up on everything, because that would be like saying I don't trust her. The fact is, I do. I just wish she felt the same. And in any case, I'm not exactly sure I have the right to be pissed off with her at all, not when I was just as guilty.

"What am I looking at, apart from Catherine being a victim of harassment?" he says in an angry tone, feeling much the same way I did about it.

"About mid-way down the page." I point. "I've done some digging, and here's what I came up with. See that? Scolari's cell number, he placed the call at approximately 4pm, two days before the murder."

"Damn." Warrick doesn't have to say how bad that looks, it speaks for itself.

Someone would interpret that as premeditation. I would certainly interpret it as such, my first instinct being to think he was trying to arrange a meeting. Especially with his DNA being all over this case.

"Not only that, but he placed another call on the day of the murder, at 5:50pm. Not looking good, is it?" I say, his green eyes finding mine again as he nods.

"Tip of the iceberg," he swallows some coffee, and shakes his head, the expression on his face, matching the tone of his voice.

"What did you find, Warrick?" I was almost afraid to ask.

He shuffles some papers, and places them in front of me. "Another one of Eddie's bad habits."

I read with growing horror, I almost can't believe it. "Oh god, you gotta be kidding me?"

"Nope, the bank is after him for 25 G's," he taps the paper I'm holding. "And that's not the worst of it."

"You mean there's more?"

"Yeah, but that's putting it mildly," he says, fanning out more papers, and pointing at column, after column of figures.

All in all, once I'm finished adding it up, Eddie owes various banks roughly around 180 thousand dollars.

"The asshole thinks he's Rockefeller," I say as he nods, one eyebrow raised in agreement.

The waitress returns with Warrick's food, and cheerfully fusses around us, making sure our cups are full and that we're not in need of anything else. I already know I'm going to leave her a large tip, and we both smile our thanks as she leaves us to continue our conversation.

"It gets even worse though," he sighs, and this time his look is pained as he hands me yet another piece of paper, before he gets busy eating his breakfast.

I thought it was bad before, now I have to re-evaluate that opinion. Eddie, in his infinite wisdom, has really done it this time. "He's dead; she's going to kill him."

"That's why I'm guessing she doesn't know, because he's actually still breathing. Although I doubt he'll be breathing much longer," he says. "Not bad, huh? Your ex-wife works her ass off to keep a roof over your daughter's head, and you go and take a second mortgage out on the house, to pay your debts."

"I don't understand how he's managed to do it without her permission, because she'd never agree to this." I'm still shocked, still can't believe he would stoop that low. She's going to want his nads on the business end of that very rusty knife she once threatened him with.

"This is Eddie we're talking about." He shrugs, both of us knowing he'll have lied through his teeth somehow.

"I gotta tell her." I stand up as he puts a hand on my arm.

"Just sit for five minutes, first." he pushes my cup closer. "Drink that, and let it all sink in before you speak to her, you need to be calm when you tell her."

I nod mutely because he's right. My mind is in a whirl and racing through different thoughts at a hundred miles an hour. The case and our private lives are inextricably linked, and I don't know what's fact or fiction. I don't know how much of this Catherine is aware of, and if or when, she was going to tell me. Would she lie for Eddie? I don't think so, she did lie about his calls, but I doubt that would have any impact on this case. But then I'm reminded of her conversation with me at Scolari's scene, and I begin to wonder all over again. I doubt she'd lie for Sam either, but again, it begs the question of just what and how much does she really know. It also reminds me that nothing seems to sit straight with this case, and I'm having trouble figuring out why.

Lately, I've dispensed with having everything in neat, tiny boxes because life doesn't work that way. I've always questioned things if the facts seem to sit a little off centre. But I used to question how, and not why, because if something doesn't seem right, then it usually isn't. But now I want to know why, and my gut instinct is telling me that we are on the brink of cracking open a can of worms of epic proportions. It didn't help any that Eddie hadn't exactly been co-operative, and I had stupidly hoped it was as a result of his intoxication, but I'm pretty sure it's a normal trait. Generally speaking, the man seemed to epitomise the concept of being difficult for difficult sake. Catherine could certainly testify to that.

"Those are just the debts we know about, Warrick." I look at him as I think out loud.

For all we know, he could have loans all over town. The glaring difference between that and bank loan, is when you ask a money lender for cash, you only have to miss one payment and you end up missing your kneecaps.

"Legitimate ones, yeah," he already knows what I'm thinking, he's no doubt already thought of all this. "He could have debts all over the place. He's got to be getting money from somewhere, because Sapphire is a rich man's club, and last time I looked, Eddie was earning shit."

"Still true, by all accounts. There's no way of telling if the second mortgage is going to cover all of his debts," I reply, and he smiles at the implication of my words.

"We could have our motive. I'm wondering if somebody approached him, wanted Scolari taken out, and Eddie decided he was willing to do it."

"Right, because he's desperate for cash, maybe doesn't want to wait until the second comes through, so he takes the guy up on his offer." but something still doesn't sit right.

Murdering somebody takes planning, guts, attention to detail. I doubt Eddie could stay focused for that long without wandering off to suck down some more beer, while he paid to have some girl grind herself against him. I can't help it, any time I think of Eddie, the movie Dumb and Dumber plays over in my head. But I guess if he was that desperate for money, even he could quit being a moron for a few days while he carried the task out. We're all capable of murder given the right sequence of events. That said, he didn't exactly do a great job of concealing his identity. He couldn't have been any more obvious than if he'd signed his name on Scolari's forehead in pink Magic Marker. That's another career he screwed up for himself: Eddie Willows, professional hit man. More like Eddie Willows, professional dipshit.

"The guy could cause trouble in an empty house." I lean forward, and shake my head slowly as if that will somehow solve things, because I'm no closer to figuring out what's going on here.

"I'm sorry," Warrick says softly. "I know you didn't need this."

"It's not your fault Warrick, and it's not me I'm bothered about. It's Cath that didn't need this; she's going to go nuts." I rub my eyes, and stare at passing traffic listlessly, not knowing what the hell to do. "We're right back at the beginning again, and I have this awful feeling that the longer this goes on, the more time she'll have to convince herself that she's safer locking me out."

He bites his lip, and thinks for a moment before looking up at me. "You could be right; maybe being passive isn't the best option here. Maybe you should take another shot at explaining things to her. She's quick to jump to conclusions and go postal, but she when she calms down and starts thinking rationally, she'll probably let you explain. When she understands, she'll be different. Trust me."

"You speaking from experience, or is this just an educated guess?"

"Let's just say that Catherine knows things about me that nobody else does," he rubs his fingers over his stubble, and rests tired eyes on me. "She and I had a serious disagreement once, long before you turned up. She couldn't understand why I went off the deep end at her, and she wouldn't talk to me for weeks. When I finally got a clue and explained to her why I'd reacted badly, she forgave me, because she knew I had my reasons."

"But we're in a relationship; she might not forgive me so easily."

"You won't know until you try, and you've got nothing to lose, and everything to gain if you do tell her. Right?"

Strictly not true, I've got an infinite amount to lose.

"I'll try talking to her when we get back. You got something planned for the rest of shift, or do I need to order you around some?" I say cheekily with a smile.

He laughs around a mouthful of pancakes. "I'll be digging around; you know how much I love a good mystery."

"Even if ultimately, the asshole gets off with it?"

"Doesn't look like that's gonna happen. As much as I hate to say this for Cath and Lindsey's sake, he looks pretty guilty."

"He looks guilty, no telling whether he actually is," I say as Warrick gives me a look, which I suspect is meant to mean that he thinks I'm clutching at straws, and if I didn't have this niggling feeling something was wrong, then I'd be inclined to agree with him.

"I guess given time, we'll find out," he replies, before getting interested in his breakfast again.

* * *

I left the diner feeling confident, but as per usual, that soon changed when I realised I'd have to talk to Catherine again whilst she was busy hating my guts. You know how they say it's a fine line between love and hate? Well they're wrong, it's a fine line between love and having your highly trained CSI girlfriend cut your body up into little chunks before tossing the pieces to the fishies out at Hoover Dam. Would she be that stupid? No, probably not. She'd bury me in the desert somewhere, or worse still, barbecue me. Jesus Sidle, get a grip. If she really wanted to kill you, she'd give your Visa Card to Lindsey.

There's just something about Catherine though that makes my self confidence floppy and ineffective. I've lost my footing after getting used to feeling so strong and comfortable around her, and its beginning to feel strained, like it used to when we first met. In any case, neither of us is innocent. But how the hell do you start a conversation like that off, without looking as if you're accusing someone of lying to you? Do I do that first, or tell her about Eddie first? Then there's the fact he made calls to Scolari which makes him look even guiltier than before. Why is everything so damn complicated? I'm not sure how to deal with any it, because I'm not entirely sure how she'll react to the news. I gave up trying to guess this kind of stuff when it became apparent I don't know my ass from my elbow where her mood swings are concerned.

Then inspiration hits, I can deal with this one of two ways: I can get all self-righteously indignant, end up arguing with her again, and push her even further away. That option sucks. Or, I can let her know that I know Eddie kept calling her without saying a word about it whilst simultaneously telling her about the calls he made to Scolari. She will expect me to go postal and start stomping around instead, I won't of course, and this will confuse the hell out of her which is always a bonus. That option doesn't suck quite as much. Having to tell her about the second mortgage does though, and I don't even want to contemplate her reaction to that. Seems like whatever I do, I'm royally screwed so I might as well just get on with it, and quit being so passionate about breathing. I figure if I get right to the point and tell her quickly, and then wisely stand aside, I might just survive it because hopefully she'll be busy wanting to kill him instead.

Thinking it, and doing it, is two different things though. I'm currently sitting outside the lab, gathering my courage around me. I'm halfway through my second cigarette when I realise that the outcome will be the same no matter how long I try and put it off, and it could just be better taking the plunge sooner rather than later. Procrastination and indecision are two of my worst faults, and I know how unlikely that seems given the fact I was a workaholic for most of my adult life, not to mention the fact I often have to make important decisions at crime scenes based on split second reactions. But those two flaws have been the death of more than one relationship, and I don't want things going the same way between Catherine and me. Taking a deep breath, and shivering slightly in the cold night air, I stub my cigarette out and get to my feet. Deep breath, Sidle, it will all come out in the wash. At least that's what my Gran used to say, but usually that was a cleverly disguised euphemism for me getting chewed out when she could manage to prove I was guilty. Some things never change.

The minute I step into the break room, loud bleeping noises echo around me and the occupants of the room rise as one and go hurtling out of the door. I turn around to see that Nick, Catherine, and I are the last three occupants of the room, and we all shoot each other a puzzled look as we hear the thudding of feet grow fainter. I shrug my jacket off, and rub my hands together, trying to get warm.

"What the hell was that all about?" Nick asks, his hands pushed deep into his pants pockets.

"Got me," Catherine shrugs, and looks in my direction, instantly knowing something is wrong with me.

Could it be the pale sickly look, and the way my ass is hugging the door frame, and refusing to join the rest of me just in case it needs to make a break for it?

Nick hands me a cup of coffee. "Here, you look like you could use this."

"Thanks," I reply, knowing it's the very last thing I need, but it doesn't stop me taking a sip of the hot liquid anyway.

"Grissom was here earlier, he said he'd pop back in a while, see if you'd had any leads," Catherine says quietly, still trying to decipher my mood.

"I did, and I want to show you something if that's okay?" I ask, and instead of waiting for confirmation, I grab my paperwork.

"What's up?" she tries to look casual, but I can tell she's wondering why the hell I'm being so nice. Mind you, I'm wondering the same thing about her.

I take the piece of paper, and hand it to her, running my finger down the list slowly, letting it brush over more than a few of the calls he's made to her. I can see her eyes following my fingertip, paling as she does so, and her breath hitches when my finger stops.

"Scolari's number, Eddie called him twice; that we know about, anyway." I fill her in on the details, and watch as she grinds her teeth and shakes her head.

"Sara," she licks her lips, and hands the sheet of paper back to me. "I know you know."

"Know what, sweetheart?" I play dumb, and as soon as I see the fear in her eyes, the niggling anger I felt, finally dissipates.

"The calls."

"You mean the calls Eddie made to you?" I ask, as she nods. "I knew about that, you told me."

"I gave you the impression it had stopped, it didn't. Don't act like you don't know they carried on." she folds her arms, and then changes her mind and shoves her hands into her jeans pockets instead, as if she's not sure to do with them.

"I'm not angry with you, if that's what you're looking so worried about."

"You're standing there, and you're telling me you're not angry about it?" she asks, looking as if she doesn't quite believe me.

"Not angry, a little disappointed but certainly nothing more than that. I'd just hoped you knew you could come to me, and tell me anything. I didn't want you to feel like you had to deal with everything on your own. I was supposed to be there to support you."

I should have kept my lips firmly zipped, she's looking a little irate about it. "Oh don't you try and sweet talk me, Sidle!"

Nick looks about ready to bolt for the door, but instead opens the fridge and practically crawls into it as he tries to make it obvious that he's not paying any attention to us, busy as he is in rifling around in there and reading the labels on the soda cans.

"Are you guys fighting, again?" Greg enters the room, and leers at us. "If you are, could you wait until I get some coffee, 'cause I wanna watch."

"Sanders…" I growl. "Shut your yapper."

"Hey, I'm still here. At least let's finish this argument before you take the rest of the lab on." Catherine waves her hand at me.

"I'm not the one arguing, you're the one all bent out of shape." I go in search of some Tylenol; the thumping in my head is like a bass drum.

I growl again as the top of the pill bottle refuses to come off, and despite my violent wrestling with it, it still refuses to relinquish its contents. I slam the bottle down on the counter, and quit bothering. There wouldn't be much point anyway; it would be like waving a wet flannel at a towering inferno.

"Fine, when you're done acting like a three year old, you know where to find me," she uses the same tone me that she uses with Lindsey, and it pisses me off.

"Who's running now?" I say, as she turns to glare at me. "I'm sorry, I'm wound up and I'm tired. Look, if you want to talk, we'll talk."

"Oh now you wanna talk, now you don't feel like shutting me out?" she nods her head sarcastically. "Well screw that, I don't want to talk."

That sets me off and I begin waving my arms around as I rant. "Oh right, so I gotta keep to your schedule, huh? You accuse me of lying, and completely shut me out, and now I find out that apparently I'm not the only one keeping secrets. Well you know what…mother's ass!"

"Mothers ass? What in the hell kind of comeback is that?" she raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.

"I saw it in a movie, it was the best I could come up with," I shrug, wondering why I'm even bothering to fight with her.

"Ladies," Grissom stands in the doorway, and looks at us both sternly. "Play nicely."

"That's the problem. Catherine doesn't know how to, because she changes the rules so fucking often that you never know where you are with her!" I grump.

Her look becomes even more dangerous, and this isn't just like some mere infraction of the rules, this is like full on death from above. Lord have mercy on my soul, and please, if you can see your way forward to letting me die just before we get to the horribly horrific painful part, then I'd be most grateful.

"The rule was simple, absolutely no lies, but you had difficulty in sticking to it!" she retorts hotly.

"Girls, come on, be nice…" Grissom whines pathetically. "This isn't really the time or the place."

"This is exactly the time and place," I reply, as I square my shoulders. "So, come on. If you got something to say to me, _Honey_, go right ahead and say it."

She stares at me, and survival instinct kicks in. If she's about to bite me, I sure as hell better be able to outrun her. I stand back, and consider my options. The woman is pissed, royally pissed. I'm torn between collapsing into a heap and having my bottom lip wobble at lightning speed, or, drooling over her because she's so sexy when she's angry.

"No, I don't think I will," she says blandly, knowing that will annoy me even more than fighting with me. "I got better things to do."

"Willows, you suck!" I say, when my mind goes blank in such a way that means I always end up losing the argument.

"I bite too," she gives me that smart ass look that's guaranteed to drive me insane.

"Not funny! Are you going to talk to me or not?" We're quickly falling back into the old habit of arguing childishly with each other, as we trade comebacks.

"Not." she uses my own words against me. "Wouldn't even talk to you with stolen lips."

"You're getting bitchy again, sweetheart. It doesn't become you," my tone errs on being annoyingly bright because I know that annoys her.

"Go and…" she pauses and bites down on her tongue before she finishes her sentence.

"…Get fucked?" I finish off for her, desperately trying to keep a straight face because if I laugh now, she'll kill me. "Why not, I've got ten minutes spare."

"In your dreams, the only thing you're going to get from me is a kick up the ass," she carps, and I notice the corner of her mouth twitching like she wants to smile but would rather play tonsil hockey with Hodges.

"You couldn't get your leg up high enough," I finally grin, but have to take a step back when she looks as if she's just about ready to rip my legs off and kick the living daylights out of me with them.

She waves her hands around in the air as if to emphasise her words. "If anyone wants me, I'll be in my office. But beware, there'll be a big flashing neon sign above the door that says 'go away' and if you still don't get the message, I'll be the one behind the desk wearing the 'fuck you' hat."

She leaves me standing there, and cursing the day I told her never to walk off on me because it irritates me no end. I'm still flapping my lips, not quite sure what to say. It would seem Grissom is at the same disadvantage, if his frequent throat clearing and constant pushing of his spectacles up his nose are anything to go by. I curse inwardly as I realise I haven't managed to tell Catherine about the second mortgage yet. Damn, that's another argument waiting to happen.

"Whoo," Nicky shakes his head, when he finally comes out of the fridge. "Now that's one pissed off little lady."

"She's not the only one," Greg grins in amusement as he points at me. "Did anybody else find that a turn on?"

"Greg, unless you want your balls used as decorative ornaments next time we drag the Christmas tree out of its box, then I'd shut your piehole," I threaten.

"Oooh!" he squeals, as he minces in my direction. "What crawled up your ass and applied for permanent residence?"

"She's always grumpy when she's tired," Nick explains with a grin. "Or it could be…"

"Don't say PMS, or I'll kick you right in the pants, cowboy," I warn him, swiping him across the shoulder with my files as he giggles.

"Catherine says she's grumpy 24/7, and frequently rants at everything." Greg snickers.

"Are you all quite finished?" Grissom asks, with a raised eyebrow, and suitably chastened, we shut up. "Sara. How's the investigation coming along, anything probative?"

"Not much at the moment. Still waiting on Doc Robbins, and Warrick is following up on a lead. I'm also still waiting on most of my test results, the labs are chronically backed up, but it was able to find out that Eddie had quite a large quantity of Cocaine in his system." I decide that's as much as I'm going to tell him for the moment, because I still need to speak to Catherine.

"Consistent with long term use?" he asks, knowing as well as I do that it will be.

"With the amount present, yes."

"That's not going to look good," Grissom states the obvious; knowing that it will matter if/when this case comes to trial.

"Yeah well, I think that's the least of his problems, being as the asshole was arrested for murder." I drop my head forward and roll my neck, groaning as I try to loosen the muscles. "I wish tonight was over, already."

"Something tells me that tomorrow isn't going to be much better," he sighs loudly, ever the optimist.

People thunder past in the hallway, the sound of boots loud on the polished surface. I turn towards the doorway, and see about a dozen people running past as if they're extras in some sort of bad cop show. The leader in particular, is waving his arms around as if he's special ops, and giving orders to a team of crack commandos. Crack pots more like.

"Jesus, did we turn into the FBI overnight?" I ask, as Grissom waves a hand dismissively as if he's seen enough for one day. I can sympathise with him.

"Ecklie," he supplies, with a weary look. "Some sort of big case downtown, multiple shooting I think he said, and he's taken almost the entire dayshift with him. I apparently don't warrant being told what's going on, I don't think he wants anyone else to play in his sandbox."

"That figures," and it does, because he's keen to solve cases only to make a name for himself. "You don't need the hassle anyway; you're due at the airport in a few hours."

The fatigue on his face seems to drift away and a smile lights up his eyes. "That's right, Terri arrives at 8am."

I take a seat, as I realise Grissom is intent on conversation. "When does she start work?"

He rubs behind his ear with a fingertip, and looks shifty. "Erm, tonight."

"You're unbelievable. Anybody else would give the woman a few nights to settle in. Perhaps cook her dinner, and romance her senseless. Not you, you've gotta bond over a corpse or three because it gives you something to talk about," I tease him with a laugh, grinning even wider when his face goes a deep pink colour, thereby confirming that I'm right.

"We're busy," he says lamely, as if it makes a difference. "Speaking of which, is there anything I can help out with?"

"Not at the moment thanks, Griss, I think we've got everything covered," which was really just a polite way of saying I had nothing else to do because I seemed to be waiting on everything else. "Thanks for the offer though."

"No problem. I'll see you all before I go, I think we could all benefit from a few quiet moments to talk," he says, as yet more people run by the in hallway.

"Good luck finding any peace around here," I say wryly, as he rolls his eyes in agreement.

"I'll see you later," he pats me on the shoulder as he walks past. "If you need me, you know where I am."

"Alrighty." I shoot him a distracted smile, my mind on finding Catherine and trying to sort things out.

I manage to drink half a cup of my coffee, and ponder on my next move, before my pager beeps and I blink rapidly to get tired eyes to focus on the display. It seems as if I will get no peace tonight. Scolari's autopsy is just about to start, and if I wish to be present, I need to be quick about it. Usually, I'd wait for the results, because the things I witness down there have the tendency to put me off food for about a week, but this time I feel as if I really do need to be there. Another sigh escapes my lips, and one heroic effort, and several deep breaths later, I manage to put some space between me and the chair, as I make indistinct groaning noises that for all I know could be disgusting swear words in Latvian. I heave myself into a standing position, and try working the kink out in my back as I catch sight of my reflection. Quite honestly, I'm horrified. I've got the whole 'Mick Jagger in a tornado' hairdo thing going on because I haven't brushed it in hours, and thanks to my sore muscles, now I'll be walking up and down the hallways like him, too. I wonder if I should give the morgue a miss, because if I stood still for too long, they might just mistake me for one of their patients.

"Greg, if you see Catherine, can you please tell her I need to speak to her urgently?"

"Possibly," Greg grins, and puts his hands on his hips. "What's it worth?"

"About ten seconds worth of breathing space, while you decide you've seen the light and pass the message on, to save me shooting you in the legs," I smile cheekily at him. "Failing that, I could tell Grissom you're too shy to ask him to keep you company for the rest of the shift."

"I hate you, Sara," Greg now looks murderous. "You suck!" he says, echoing the earlier comment I made to Catherine, I should worry that I'm beginning to sound like him. Or worse still, he should worry he's beginning to sound like me.

"Yes I do, and I'm good at it," I grin evilly at him, knowing how much it winds him up. "So, Catherine, message?"

"Alright, if I see her, you need to speak to her. I won't forget," he says sulkily, and folds his arms.

"Thank you, Greg," I pat him on the head as he pouts at me. "Same goes for you Tex, if she needs to find me, I'll be in the morgue."

"Sorry Sara, we had no idea you felt that bad," Nick quips, as I flash him the finger and disappear through the door.

* * *

As it turned out, visiting the morgue and finding Catherine turned out to be one and the same thing. Startled blue eyes meet my own, and she has the good grace to look guilty and almost, but not quite, apologetic about it. Doc Robbins stops mid-sentence and smiles at me, and I know he doesn't have any idea what's happened this evening. Gossip very rarely reaches this part of the building. He holds Scolari's X-rays mid-air, and even from my spot near the door, I can see that the bullet track and debris field has done extensive damage to the front of Scolari's cranium.

"Willows, you are so busted!" Talk about taking liberties, I'd always thought if you gave her an inch she'd take the entire turnpike. "What happened to being in your office?"

"Eyes, no hands," she says in defence of herself, as she holds them up to prove she won't have touched anything since she isn't wearing gloves.

I'm trying to think of how I'm going to tell her without being on the receiving end of her temper. She'll be angry no matter what, so I might as well just get it over with and quit being such a whiny ass.

"Can I have a word, please, Cath?" I ask, wondering if she's going to let me talk to her.

"Which one would you like?"

"Very funny," I raise an eyebrow at her, and jerk my head toward the door. "I'd like to talk to you, it won't take long. We'll be back in about five minutes, Doc, sorry to keep you waiting."

"No rush," Doc Robbins smiles kindly. "I'll get everything set up."

She follows me outside and there's nowhere that's really private down here, so I'm going to have to settle for the hallway. She notices my several uneasy attempts at swallowing, and the way my eyes dart back and forth nervously, as she frowns at me.

"Look, before you lecture me on the fact that Ecklie's looking for a reason to fire me then don't, because Grissom bent my ear about it tonight already. I'll tell you the same thing I told him, I've known for weeks and he'll have to do a lot better than that to catch me out, even if I'm not firing all cylinders at the moment. Besides, Ecklie is out and what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Don't hold back will you?" I say dryly.

"I'm not down here because I think you're doing a bad job. I'm here because I feel partly responsible for everything Eddie's done," she blows a breath out and leans against the wall, as if she's finally had enough and has decided I might not be the enemy after all.

"What do you mean?" I'm puzzled. "How can you think it's your fault?"

"Never mind. Whatever it is, just spit it out," she says softly, her eyes trying to read mine.

"It's about Eddie…"

"What's the bastard done now?" she sighs, as the line of her lips whitens with anger. "I swear to god, I should have shot him, and buried his no good cheating ass out in the desert years ago."

"Hold that thought," I swallow heavily. "There's no easy way to tell you this, but Eddie's taken out a second mortgage on the house, sweetheart. He's up to his neck in debt."

She bites her lip, and looks down at the floor. "I know."

"What?" my heart thuds out of rhythm, as my stomach clenches painfully.

"I already knew about it. I finally managed to get it cancelled Friday, after days of trying."

"You knew, and you didn't tell me?" it's all beginning to fall into place along with everything else. "The phone calls, and now him trying to rip you off. I can't believe this!"

I pace back and forth, figuring that she would probably have started up sooner or later, and having her stationary was a hell of a lot kinder to my stomach than watching her powering back and forth like a yoyo.

"I don't want…"

"I can't believe it, I can't fucking believe it! Are you ever going to trust me enough to tell me anything? You could have ended up losing the house, and you didn't think to tell me? I could have helped, I could have been there for you," I continue as my mouth takes over control of my body, leaving my brain tapping its fingers.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says, trying so hard to shut me out. "And don't come over all self-righteous because you're not entirely innocent either."

"Oh come on Cath, I'm not the devil incarnate!" I throw my hands up in the air as she treats me to a pissed off look. "Please, just try to see things from my point of view, I can see them from yours." and indeed I can, like I said, I've been given a taste of my own medicine, although I'm willing to stake my life on the fact that she had the same intentions I did, we just went about it the wrong way. At least I hope that's the case.

"I'd love to see things from your point of view, but I can't get my head that far up your ass!" she growls, knowing she's just as guilty as I am, and yet won't admit it.

"Right, screw this," time for the direct approach, because nothing else seems to be working.

"Where are you going?" she asks with a look that's a combination of surprise and confusion.

"Grissom's office. I'm going to hand this case over, and then I'm going back to my apartment for some sleep. After that, who the hell knows?"

"You can't just quit," she looks at me worriedly, because she's never seen me quit anything before.

"Oh I sure as hell can quit, isn't that you've done?" she looks taken aback at this as I carry on, and I feel really mean but I have to try and get through to her somehow, because I'm scared she's given up already. "I mean you gave up on us, and you walked out of my life, doesn't that classify as quitting? I had you pegged for a lot of things, Cath, but being a quitter wasn't one of them."

"I am not a quitter!" suddenly her eyes are on fire, and she looks seriously pissed off.

"No? Sure as hell looks like it from where I'm standing. What happened to the Catherine I know?" I'm not exactly sure this is a smart path to skip down, and provoking her isn't fair, but I need to get her to talk to me properly. Fits and starts just won't cut it.

"I'm not made of stone!" she snaps, rising to her full height and looking more like her old self with every passing second. "Even I have my limits; and fuck me; I think I've reached 'em!"

"Great, because that makes two of us. The least you could do is talk to me, it's driving me crazy and you're scaring me. I've never seen you look this lost before Catherine, and I hate seeing you like this. Why won't you talk to me, why won't you let me be there for you?"

"That's rich! Especially after you what you've done. When you're faced with the prospect of losing your daughter, and your girlfriend all in the one day, then you can talk to me about being scared!" she glares at me.

"Oh I know exactly how you feel, because my entire world fell apart when you told me that we were finished. I know you're hurt, but you're pushing me away for all the wrong reasons."

"And you don't?!" she shouts. "I tried finding a way to fix things earlier on tonight, and you didn't want to know."

"Huh?" I ask stupidly, wondering if I'd missed something.

"When you got back from interviewing Eddie, I tried to see if you were okay, and you just shut me out," her eyes bore into me. "But I guess that's okay because it's you, and you don't tell me anything these days, do you?"

"Neither do you, apparently! And hey, back the truck up a bit. I admit I didn't want to talk about Eddie, but when I called you honey and tried to get a little closer to you, you backed right off and became hostile again."

"What do you expect?" her eyebrows reach her hairline. "I suppose you're entirely rational when you're upset and feeling terrified you've lost everything!"

Words fail me, it doesn't seem to matter what I do, things seem to spiraling downward rapidly and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

"We can't keep the doc waiting any longer," she says coldly; when I can't seem to immediately find my voice.

I quirk an eyebrow at her. "We can't carry on like this, we need to talk. We've been here before Cath, and if you think I'm going to let you go so easily then you're mistaken. We haven't come this far, and gone through this much, just to give up on each other now. Think about that."

"Trust me, you're better off without me," she says, her tone sounding too defeated for my liking, as she leaves me standing outside in the hallway and re-enters the morgue.


End file.
